


Love Me Like You Do

by Skyshadow3246, Wolfloner



Series: Finding Beauty in Negative Spaces [24]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asexual Character, Blow Jobs, Borderline Personality Disorder, Bottom Peter Parker, Bottom Wade Wilson, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Ellie Does what she wants, Family, Family Bonding, Feelings, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Oops, POV Peter Parker, POV Wade Wilson, Porn with Feelings, Relationship Negotiation, Schizophrenic Wade Wilson, Top Peter Parker, Top Wade Wilson, Underage Drinking, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, a little bit, kind of, pov deadpool, the author forgot to tag this initially
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-14 11:17:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16911891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyshadow3246/pseuds/Skyshadow3246, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfloner/pseuds/Wolfloner
Summary: It's time for the Christmas chapters for Finding Beauty in Negative Spaces! First up! SpideyPool!Family dinner and an awful lot of sex, tbh.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays! This'll either be 3 or 4 chapters. First two are done (well. 2nd chapter needs to be edited, but w/e). Neither this nor the FrostIron fic are gonna be super heavily Christmas-y except that they take place during Christmas. :)

_You're the light, you're the night_   
_You're the color of my blood_   
_You're the cure, you're the pain_   
_You're the only thing I wanna touch_   
_Never knew that it could mean so much, so much_

_\--_ _Ellie Goulding, Love Me Like You Do_

 

**Deadpool**

 

The latest job had taken Deadpool three fucking days. An entire goddamned 24 hours longer than he'd planned to be away.

 

He hadn't killed anyone - probably - although it had been close. One of the fuckers had just been asking for it. First he'd shot Deadpool, which already put him on thin fucking ice. But when that hadn't slowed him down, the cocksucker had instead started shooting blindly out the window towards the crowded streets.

 

Instead of shooting him like the Bad guy had deserved, Deadpool had disarmed him. Literally. He'd left him in an unconscious bleeding heap outside of the nearest ER, tossing his now extraneous arm next to him.

 

He was still wired and on edge when the elevator door opened into the apartment. He'd briefly considered stopping by _his_ apartment first, but had dismissed the idea out of hand. He'd already been away from Peter longer than he'd planned after all. He only took the time to remove his utility belt and weapons before venturing into the apartment.

 

It was with no small amount of surprise and delight that he paused upon nearing the doorway to the bedroom. He hadn't expected to be greeted by an aria of gasps and moans being pulled from his tiny lover.

 

He barely stepped through the doorway. He hardly trusted himself to be even that close once he'd laid eyes on just what Peter had gotten up to in his absence.

 

Peter's chest and face were pushed into the mattress, and his knees were tucked under him, leaving his ass up in the air and deliciously vulnerable.

 

But the best part by far was that Peter was working a dildo ( _#4 out of 5!_ he noted with excitement) into himself. He was panting and struggling and when he looked over at Deadpool with lust-blown eyes it was the most beautiful thing Deadpool had ever witnessed. The hand not gripping the toy was fisted into the sheets by his mouth.

 

Every drop of blood in his body raced to his dick, each more desperate than the last to be a part of whatever action Deadpool was about to get. He freed his dick and squeezed the base before he started stroking himself. The stitching of his gloves was rough against his skin but he was so far beyond caring that he barely noticed the discomfort.

 

Besides, there was no way he could take even a single step father into the room without pulling the dildo out of his boy and slicking himself up instead.

 

Fuck, how easy it was to picture. Grabbing Peter's hips and sinking into him. Hard and fast and nothing at all like he _wanted_ their first time to be. Still, he could imagine Peter letting him. Peter crying out as he pushed his way inside, writhing and squirming under him. Torn between wanting to escape and wanting Deadpool to just pound into him.

 

“Deadpool.” He was snapped out of his fantasy by Peter moaning _his_ name. Not _Wade_ , but _Deadpool_. Peter's expression turned hungry as he watched Deadpool fist his leaking cock. “Deadpool, please,” Peter was begging, trying desperately to edge the toy deeper. “'S too much. On my own,” he panted. “Need you.”

 

He released his dick and took an unsteady step forward. _Peter is Good_ , he reminded himself. _He is Good and he is trusting you!_ That thought alone was enough to send another spike of arousal through him. _Trusting you to_ help _! Not to--_

 

But he was already on the bed, crawling on his knees to cover the short distance to Peter's side. His breathing was ragged through his mask. “I'm here,” he whispered, shooing Peter's hand away and sliding the dildo most of the way out of him. He quickly found the tube of lube and applied more to the toy before sliding it back in.

 

Deadpool did his best to ignore the urge to toss the toy to the side completely and start working Peter open with his gloved fingers instead. He wondered if Peter might be open to something like that one day. He would have to ask.

 

He held the dildo still just fractionally past where Peter had managed on his own. “So impatient,” Deadpool scolded, slowly working it deeper, listening closely to Peter's reactions as he did. “You were supposed to wait for me, remember? But I guess you just can't wait to get my prick inside you, huh?” Peter groaned, trying to press back against the toy, but Deadpool just moved with him. “Oh, don't you worry Baby Boy, I'll fill you up in ways you can't even imagine yet,” he promised. “I'll stretch you open until we're so perfectly molded together that you'll cry when it's over.”

 

“Shit,” Peter let out a strangled gasp, tensing all over, and he stilled his hand. He didn't pull the toy back, he just waited and watched as Peter panted and dug his fingers into the sheets. With a shudder Peter eventually relaxed around the too-fast intrusion.

 

“How,” Peter started between deep gulping breaths, “how much more?”

 

Deadpool glanced at the toy. “Another two inches. Think you can manage it?”

 

“Yes,” Peter said, probably trying to sound firm, but the whimper that escaped him as Deadpool resumed thrusting the toy in and out of him tempered it. “P-please, keep talking.”

 

“Oh?” Deadpool purred with approval. “You like hearing about all the things I'm going to do to you?”

 

Peter nodded. His eyes were glassy but he was definitely paying attention.

 

“I have this fantasy,” Deadpool held the dildo against Peter's hole, careful not to actually nudge it deeper just yet. “It's the middle of the night, and we're out patrolling. We stop a mugging or something. Details aren't important. Make sure the victim gets home safe.” He pushed it deeper. “You call the cops on the Bad guy. We skedaddle before they show up.” Deeper.

 

“A few alleys over and I'm on my knees, sucking you off. Swallowing your cock down my throat.” He rocked the toy and Peter keened under him. He experimented a little until he was pretty sure he was pressing the toy against Peter's prostate, and just held it there.

 

“Then you decide that's not enough and pull me to my feet. Web me against the wall. The only lube we've got handy is my spit so that's just gotta be good enough.” He started shallowly thrusting the toy again, slight deeper each time, making sure to brush against Peter's prostate each time. “No prep, no nothing, just your incredible strength holding me against the bricks as you shove your cock inside me. And I'm moaning like a bitch in heat the whole time. Can't get enough.” The toy was fully seated, and Deadpool just rocked it back and forth. Peter's breathing had gone high pitched. “You just pound into me until you come,” he continued, his free hand wrapping around Peter's weeping dick.

 

Peter was shaking and gasping and every so often a quiet moan would escape him.

 

“You don't let me come though. You just slide out, yank me free from the wall, and expect me to just keep patrolling as though a stiff breeze wouldn't make my dick explode.”

 

Deadpool didn't know what finally set him off, but Peter went silent as he came, thick ropes of cum splattering against the bed, his face contorted as waves of pleasure wracked his tiny frame.

 

He gently removed the dildo and set it aside before roughly stroking his dick until his own orgasm covered his glove and the front of his suit.

 

Peter's voice was rough when he whispered, “I wouldn't.”

 

Deadpool huffed a laugh. “I told you it was a fantasy, sweet boy.”

 

But Peter was shaking his head and pushing himself back up enough to be able to look at Deadpool face to mask. “I'd want you to come too. 'S'no fun if it's just me.”

 

He could have wept from the determined look on Peter's face. “Oh, fuck me,” Deadpool breathed instead, shoving Peter onto his back and hovering over him. He pressed his mouth against Peter's until the boy whined and dug his fingers underneath his mask, pulling it off so that they could kiss properly.

 

The kiss was hungry and desperate. Peter hooked a leg around his waist and thrust up until he could slide his dick - which was already half-hard again - against Deadpool's groin.

 

He felt himself start to stiffen again at the contact. He moaned into Peter's mouth as he ground up against him. “Petey, stop, please,” He forced himself to plead.

 

He had to be Good, he reminded himself firmly.

 

Peter let out a disappointed noise but unhooked his leg and dropped back down. But Peter's arms were still around his neck, unwilling to simply let him go. “I love you, Deadpool.”

 

Deadpool whined and scrambled to cover Peter's body with his own, feeling secure with the knowledge that Peter could toss him through the wall with barely any effort if he wanted to. “Love you, too,” he whispered, and Peter smiled before tilting his head up to kiss him again.

 

“I want you.”

 

“I noticed,” Deadpool smirked, rolling his hips to punctuate just how much he wanted Peter as well.

 

“So what are you waiting for?”

 

His mouth went dry at the challenge in Peter's voice. “Pete…” He reached back and freed himself from Peter's grip, quickly rolling off of him.

 

 _Do it!_ Yellow squealed. _Do it, do it, do it!_

 

“No,” he said, not nearly as firmly as he'd have liked.

 

 _He's_ literally _asking for it._ Yellow griped. _What is wrong with you?_

 

“Deadpool? What--”

 

“No,” he said again. It was all he could manage between his deep gasping breaths. Peter's offer was far too tempting. He wanted it too badly. He felt torn. He wanted to respect Peter's agency - respect his ability to make decisions like this for himself.

 

 _Then 'respect’ that he wants your dick in his ass. Jesus, why is this so hard? You want it too! So just roll the kid over and_ take what you want _, you pussy._

 

But Deadpool didn't want it. Not like this. “I'm sorry,” he forced out before rolling off the bed. He didn't chance a look back at Peter as he grabbed his mask from the floor before throwing open the window and fleeing down the fire escape.

 

**Peter**

 

Peter stared open-mouthed at the window that Deadpool had just disappeared through for easily a solid minute. That had taken about as unexpected a turn as he could have possibly imagined.

 

He flopped back down on the bed and pulled a pillow over his face, screaming into it until he _couldn't_ anymore. What the fuck was wrong with him? He hadn't meant to make Deadpool upset or uncomfortable. And he definitely hadn't wanted him to leave.

 

He dragged himself off the bed and yanked off the dirty bedding after him. It was only with a last-second check of his strength that he kept from tearing it to pieces.

 

Even slamming the door of the washing machine didn't feel good. He wanted to actually hit something for once. As hard and as much as he could until he exhausted himself.

 

He was a fucking idiot, and an awful boyfriend to boot. He knew that Wade - that Deadpool - wanted to wait. Wanted to be careful and gentle and… controlled. None of which were things Deadpool was exactly known for.

 

But he'd still pushed.

 

Peter got into the shower and turned the water up as hot as he could stand. Then he turned it up a bit more. When that did nothing to ease his frustration he turned it down until the cold was just bearable and scrubbed himself clean in the freezing water.

 

Even through his chattering teeth he heard the door to the apartment open as clearly as if he were standing next to it. He shut the water off and listened closely to the weight of the footsteps.

 

 _Wade._ Relief flooded through him. Wade had come back. Hadn't left him. _Stupid_. Of course Wade wouldn't leave over something like this, but--

 

He only took enough time to drag a towel superficially over him before pulling on the boxers and t-shirt he'd brought into the restroom with him.

 

“Wade!” Peter all but leapt through the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway, taking in Wade's appearance. He's changed clothing, somewhere. Well, not somewhere. He recognized the over-large hoodie and cargo pants as something Wade had stashed at St. Margaret's. Boots and gloves made sure that everything but Wade's face was hidden - protected.

 

“Hi,” Wade's voice sounded small, and he couldn't seem to settle on what to look at besides _not him._ “Look, Peter, I'm--”

 

“I'm so fucking sorry.” Peter said, crossing the short distance between them but not touching. He got the impression that Wade wouldn't welcome his touch right then. “I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm an asshole and I didn't listen and you shouldn't have felt like you needed to leave just because I was too busy thinking with my dick instead of--”

 

“Hey!” Wade's gloves were softer than he'd been expecting when they clasped his shoulders. “Slow down. Why are you apologizing?”

 

Peter blinked in surprise. He'd thought that was pretty obvious. “Because I tried to pressure you into sex and made you uncomfortable?”

 

Wade snorted at him, and Peter couldn't help but scowl, even as Wade pulled him into his arms and held him against his chest. “Oh honey bunches, no! _You_ didn't make me uncomfortable. Well, I mean, my pants were a bit--”

 

“Wade! I'm being serious!” Peter complained against Wade's hoodie.

 

He heard Wade sigh before releasing him from the hug and taking a small step back, returning his hands to Peter's shoulders. “So am I. You getting yourself all worked up without me and then begging me to fuck you? Uncomfortable is not… Not the word I'd use.

 

“I wasn't _begging,_ ” Peter muttered.

 

But Wade continued as if he hadn't spoken, “Also, just saying, but the idea that you would ever need to _pressure_ me into sex with you is so fucking cute,” his hand came up and lightly tapped the side of Peter's face until he shoved the hand away.

 

“Then why'd you run off?” Peter had gone from feeling guilty to mildly annoyed by Wade's antics in record time.

 

“Because _I_ made me uncomfortable. The things I thought about doing,” Wade stopped himself short. Then, apparently correcting himself, “The things I _wanted_ to do to you? And the fact that there was even the slightest chance you might let me? That's what made me uncomfortable.”

 

Peter swallowed and took a half step forward. “Like what?”

 

“You think you really want to know?” But Wade was wearing a devious smile.

 

He hummed, mirroring Wade's expression. “Better or worse than your fantasy about me spit-fucking you in an alley?”

 

Wade let out a mock gasp and his hand came back up to gently cup Peter's face. “Spidey,” he stage whispered, as if in shock, his thumb tracing over Peter's bottom lip. “I should wash your mouth out then take you over my knee. Where did you even learn language like that?”

 

Peter nipped at Wade's gloved thumb and his face broke into a grin. He tried to school his expression into one of mock seriousness, but he couldn't manage it. “You alright? I learned it from watching you!”

 

He couldn't tell which of them broke into a fit of giggles first, but seconds later Wade had collapsed back on the floor laughing so hard that his eyes were watering. He pulled Peter down into his lap, and Peter pressed his face against Wade's shoulder, shaking with his own laughter.

 

In the back of Peter's mind he realized that it wasn't _that_ funny, but he happily ignored that thought in favor of crawling up the rest of the way to kiss Wade.

 

“So,” he prompted once their laughing fits had calmed, “better or worse than the fantasy you've already told me about?”

 

“I don't know,” Wade admitted, letting his head drop to the hardwood floor. “A lot of them tend to involve holding you down.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Peter asked. “We could do that.”

 

“Peter…”

 

“Psh. It would be symbolic at best and you know it. You couldn't _actually_ hold me down unless I wanted you to.” He kissed Wade again, hoping to banish his concerned expression. “C'mon, what else?”

 

“Well… A lot more of them have you holding _me_ down.”

 

“That doesn't count,” Peter said, sitting up and taking hold of Wade's wrists. “We've already established that you like that.”

 

“Mmm, yeah, that's true,” Wade conceded. He tried to shift and tug at his wrists but Peter wouldn't let him move. Peter grinned when Wade's breathing shifted as he realized he couldn't break Peter's grip.

 

“You know,” Peter said carefully, “we could skip this game and head back to the bedroom? Finish what we started?”

 

Wade followed his meaning clearly, “Peter. I am way too far from a reasonable state of mind for that.”

 

Peter let himself pout, but only for a moment. He understood. Wade had come home straight after a job. The fact that he was as _himself_ as he was was noteworthy. “I get it, I'm sorry.”

 

“Buuut,” Peter continued, keeping his tone light, “if you're not going to fuck me, then you can at least tell me more about what you want to do so that I can fantasize vicariously through you.”

 

Wade scoffed, looking unimpressed. “How about we go quid pro quo. Tell me something you fantasize about.”

 

Peter froze, his grip on Wade's wrists slackening. This was probably just another way he was _weird-wrong-broken._ He shifted his gaze away from Wade's face. “I don't,” he said softly.

 

Wade wiggled under him. “Oh. That's ok!” he assured Peter. “Want me to tell you about one of the more realistic things I wanted to do you earlier?”

 

“Yes,” Peter said with a rush of gratitude. Wade didn't want to let him ruminate, and knew just how to distract him.

 

“So, at the time I was wearing my gloves still, which in retrospect would probably just be really uncomfortable, but I was _very_ tempted to just drop the toy to the side and start fingering you.”

 

“Yeah?” Peter perked up. “Wh--” What, why, and how all struggled to leave his mouth at the same time. He took a quick breath to focus on one at a time. “Why?”

 

Wade was smiling at him. “Because it's fun. And a hell of a lot more intimate than using a piece of silicone on you. Plus they'd feel more like my cock. Warm and alive and loving the opportunity to touch you.”

 

Peter felt his ears burning. He pulled Wade's hand up and pressed a line of kisses across his knuckles. Peter hummed before drawing two of Wade's fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them as he did. He was pretty sure Wade just stopped breathing for a few seconds.

 

He pulled the fingers back out of his mouth. “I see what you mean,” he mused.

 

A broken desperate sound squeaked from Wade's throat.

 

“Bedroom or do you just wanna do it out here on the floor?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Peter laughed and gained his feet, dragging Wade up with him. “Bedroom it is, then, c'mon.”

 

Walking seemed to snap Wade out of wherever lust-fueled fantasy he'd gotten stuck in. He returned the gesture when Peter squeezed his hand.

 

“So, how do you want me?” Peter asked as soon as they were in the bedroom.

 

Wade opened his mouth to answer but then stopped, looking over at the bed. Peter followed his gaze. Right. He hadn't gotten around to putting fresh bedding on yet. Wade held up a finger - wait - and left the bedroom for a moment. He returned with a towel that he spread over the bed.

 

Peter smiled up at Wade's pleased expression. “Ok, now that the moment has been slightly ruined, how--”

 

“Practicality is sexy,” Wade corrected, grabbing the front of Peter's shirt and pulling him closer. “I want you to be comfortable. But if you're asking for my preference…?”

 

“Obviously. This is _your_ fantasy after all.”

 

His boyfriend's expression turned predatory as he dug his fingers into Peter's hair and kissed him. “Well,” Wade purred, “I quite liked the look of you when I got home earlier.”

 

Peter felt himself blush as Wade continued. “You were so open and vulnerable.” The hand not tangled in Peter's hair drifted down his back and ducked under his shirt, toying with the waistband of his underwear.

 

Getting in that position while he was alone was one thing. Even having Deadpool walk in on him like that hadn't fazed him. But here? Now? The idea was as embarrassing as it was thrilling.

 

But Wade misunderstood his hesitation, and released him, letting his arms fall to the side. Peter pouted at the loss of touch but that didn't stop Wade from saying, “Of course you don't have to. We can--”

 

“Idiot,” Peter said fondly, pulling his t-shirt off in a quick motion. “One of these days you're gonna learn to let me speak for myself rather than just assuming you've done something wrong.” Wade's cautious smile turned into a grin as Peter wiggled out of his boxers, tossing them to the side with his shirt.

 

He tugged at Wade's hoodie. “You are severely overdressed.”

 

Wade brushed his hands away. “You know what? You're right.”

 

Peter perched on the edge of the bed and watched Wade pull off his hoodie - careful not to disturb the pegasus t-shirt he had on underneath - and toss it in the slowly growing clothes pile. Wade also made a show of slowly taking off each of his gloves.

 

“There, that's better.” Wade beamed.

 

“I mean… I guess so,” Peter said, leaning back on his hands, trying to look unimpressed. “Aren't you forgetting something though?”

 

“Oh shit!” Peter watched as Wade crouched down and unlaced his boots so that he could remove them and his socks. Then he stood up straight once again.

 

“What the hell, Wade?” Peter asked. But he was laughing as he tossed a pillow at his boyfriend's head. “Why am I the only one naked here?”

 

“Because only one of us actually looks good naked.”

 

Peter frowned. “Babe--”

 

“Sorry,” Wade held a hand up. “No more self-deprecating humor right now. The real answer is that I think it's hot when only one of us is naked. And, as an added bonus, it helps me remember that this is about making you feel good, and not about my getting my dick wet.”

 

He bit back the urge to point out that _it could be both_ . “Well, if it's to help keep you in line,” Peter smiled. No longer sure what, if anything, he was waiting for, he turned and crawled properly into the towel, dropping down so that his chest and face were touching the bed, but his ass was still in the air. He'd been right, getting into this position with Wade watching him _was_ embarrassing. He felt awkward and vulnerable and _on display_.

 

He glanced over at Wade, who hadn't moved, looking awestruck.

 

“You just going to leave me over here by myself?” Peter teased, hoping that might mask some of his anxiety.

 

“Right. Yes. Sorry.” Wade nearly tripped over himself as he took the few steps that let him sit on the side of the bed. “It's just… holy shit, you look gorgeous like this, baby boy.”

 

Peter squirmed under the weight of the compliment. “You saw me like this earlier,” he muttered, dragging a pillow closer so that he could bury his face in it.

 

Wade hummed, “It's not really the same though.” He felt Wade's finger trail from the base of his head and along his spine. “Earlier I found you like this. But now… You did this _for me_.” His hand rested securely on Peter's ass. “You gonna hide the whole time? We can do something else if you're uncom--

 

Peter turned his head to the side so that he could look up at Wade. “I'm not uncomfortable,” he lied, then let out an annoyed breath. “Ok, it's kind of… I feel self-conscious. Everything's all… out in the open.”

 

“Yeah,” Wade replied fondly. “That's kind of the point. It makes it really easy to reach most of your fun bits.”

 

“Dork,” Peter muttered, settling down and sinking into the pillow.

 

“Your dork, though.” Wade gave him a light pat on the ass, “Hang tight for a second.” Peter closed his eyes and listened when Wade stood up and rummaged through the drawers. “Hey, Petey?”

 

“Hmm?” Peter opened his eyes to see Wade's face very close to his.

 

“Where'd you put the lube?”

 

Peter blinked. That… was actually a very good question. “Um.” He lifted his head and glanced around the room, thinking. He gestured towards the general direction of the other side of the bed. “That way?”

 

“That way?” Wade huffed.

 

“Yeah, uh,” he cleared his throat, “I might have just let stuff fall on the floor and left it there.”

 

“Uh huh.” He watched Wade bend over and come back up with the lube and dildo. “Why?”

 

“Because I was frustrated and acting in a totally reasonable manner.” He stuck his tongue out at Wade's annoyed expression.

 

When Wade turned to leave the toy in the bathroom - which, yeah, that was definitely a better place to abandon it for the moment - he was muttering. “Fucking spank some sense into that kid.”

 

Peter waited until Wade had returned to the room to fix him with a huge grin. “Yeah?” He asked. “There something you want to share?”

 

“What?”

 

“It's just that you've mentioned spanking me twice in the 30 minutes since you got home. Do you wanna--”

 

“No,” Wade said quickly, going tense.

 

“No?”

 

“You weren't supposed to hear that,” Wade admitted.

 

“Yeah, well, I can hear a mouse fart from the next building over.” Wade didn't look any more comfortable, but he did at least return to sit next to Peter. “I'm sorry. I didn't realize that was something you didn't want to share with me. I really do try to tune out the stuff people don't want me overhearing.”

 

“I know you do,” Wade's fingers threaded through his hair, brushing it away from his face. “And I know your going to ask, so, no. I mean it, I'm not interested in spanking you.” Peter barely had his mouth open when Wade covered it, “Do you want to fuck or do you want to talk?”

 

“Both.”

 

He could tell that Wade had been expecting that answer, “You're so difficult. You get one question.”

 

Peter frowned. He had more than one question! He had several, damn it! He knew he could probably call Wade's bluff - knew that Wade wanted to have sex enough that he could probably get away with asking more than his allotted question - but that felt manipulative, at best.

 

The big question at the forefront of his mind was: why was Wade so uninterested? But he pushed that one aside. If Wade didn't want to do something, that's all he needed to know. It wasn't as if Peter had particularly strong feelings one way or the other. He'd have been up for it if _was_ something Wade wanted to do, but otherwise he couldn't imagine suggesting it himself.

 

So instead he went with his second biggest question: “If you don't want to, why do you keep mentioning it?”

 

“Because I have this bad habit of just saying whatever the fuck comes to mind,” Wade explained. “It pops into my head, I open my mouth, and the thought is free. Free like a majestic pegacorn!”

 

A smile tugged at Peter's mouth, even though he knew Wade was just deflecting his attention. His enthusiasm was catching. “What the hell is a pegacorn?”

 

“Nuh-uh,” Wade waved his finger. “I told you, you only get one question.”

 

Peter pouted. “Oh c'mon. I've been sitting here for the last few minutes with my ass in the air, all for you. You can at least tell me what a pegacorn is.”

 

Wade snorted. “ _Fine_ ,” he said, as if Peter's request was unreasonable. He pointed to his own t-shirt, “This is a pegacorn. See the horn?”

 

 _Oh_. Pegasus slash unicorn. Pegacorn. He rolled his eyes at the sense of anticlimax.

 

“Can we talk about the other thing later?” He asked. “Obviously not right now because you've seriously talked up how good a finger in my ass is going to feel and there's no way I'm missing my chance for that. But…”

 

“Yes,” Wade agreed, scratching the back of Peter's head. “Later.”

 

Peter pressed his head back against Wade's hand for a moment before settling back down into position. Now that they were actually doing this, a burst of nervous excitement returned. The plus side of waiting several minutes is that the position felt less awkward. Wade's soft affectionate touches along his back and arms definitely helped, too.

 

Sometimes Wade's fingers on his skin were light, just ghosts of pressure, other times nails dragged across him.

 

At one point Wade was scratching right above his tailbone and Peter reflexively stretched his arms out. He was vaguely aware that he was flexing his hands open and closed,

 

Wade giggled beside him.

 

Peter grunted. “What?”

 

“Makin’ bread,” Wade singsonged.

 

He froze and dug his fingers into the pillow. “Shut up,” he mumbled into the pillow.

 

“Aww, no. It was super cute!”

 

But Wade stopped and moved his hands back, rubbing and massaging his ass.

 

Peter tentatively let his arms relax again. Wade had started stroking his legs.

 

“Are we gonna get to the main event any time soon?” He asked.

 

“You're so impatient.” He could hear the smile in Wade's voice as his hands left him. Then the click of the bottle of lube opening.

 

He let out a started noise when cold lube dripped onto his ass. “Gah. Dude. A little warning would have been nice.” He complained.

 

“But you make such fun sounds when you're startled,” Wade said, starting to rub slow circles against his hole.

 

Peter decided to focus on relaxing and breathing rather than dignifying that with a reply.

 

“Ready?”

 

“I've been asking you to stick your prick in me for a week, I think I can handle - oh.” Peter definitely didn't squeak as Wade's finger slowly pushed inside of him.

 

It couldn't have felt more different than the toys they'd been using. Wade's finger was blunt and rough and warm and infinitely _better_ than those toys could ever be. He let his eyes slide back closed and just _felt_.

 

“Pete?” Wade sounded concerned.

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

“Are you ok?”

 

He tensed with mild alarm. But nothing hurt, so it was unlikely he was injured. “Yeah.”

 

“You just went real quiet,” Wade explained. “I wanted to be sure.”

 

Peter smiled. Given that he usually never shut up, Wade's concern was understandable. “No, I'm good. It feels great.”

 

Wade was chuckling softly and Peter wasn't sure why until Wade's finger was moving again, thrusting deeper inside of him. This time he let out an appreciative groan.

 

True to form, Wade was taking his time, and Peter was pretty sure a couple of minutes passed before he felt the rest of Wade's hand against his ass. “How does that feel?”

 

“Awesome,” Peter said honestly. “Different. Good. Like…” He clenched around Wade's finger, marveling at the feeling, trying desperately to figure out how to express it. “Oh. Like you said. It's intimate.”

 

“Good.” Wade purred. His movements were steady and purposeful as he started thrusting his finger again. Peter gasped as Wade curled his finger, brushing against his prostate.

 

“Oh my God,” Peter gasped, rocking back as well as he could. “Fuck. Wade. Please.”

 

“What do you want, Baby Boy?”

 

He whined and shoved a hand under him, wrapping his fingers tight around his dick and pumping. That was _better_ , but not quite what he wanted. He realized he had no idea what he wanted. Except _Wade_ and _more_.

 

Wade's free hand came to rest on the small of his back. “You're ok, I've got you,” he said soothingly. It was only then that Peter realized he'd been making desperate whimpering sounds.

 

Peter tried to focus on the hand on his back, tried to let it ground him. The friction on his dick was quickly becoming too much, and he let his hand fall away, gripping the towel under him instead.

 

That wasn't enough to temper the onslaught of sensation. “ _Please_ ,” he said again, and his voice sounded broken and pained. “I can't.”

 

Frustration built in his chest. Something that had felt fantastic just moments before was now overwhelming in its intensity.

 

As soon as he'd spoken, Wade had gone still, and hadn't pulled out of him yet. “What's wrong?”

 

For one Peter was grateful for Wade's caution in this. “I…” he clenched his eyes closed tighter. “Um.” There was a word. He knew there was a word for what he was feeling, if only he could remember it. It started with an o, or possibly a u. “Goddamnit,” he bit out. “It's too much,” he tried.

 

“A bad kind of too much?”

 

Peter nodded.

 

“Ok. That's ok. Can you bear with me for a moment while I pull out? And then I'll go grab stuff to clean us up. Sound good?”

 

He didn't particularly want Wade to move his finger, but that was hardly realistic. “Sounds good,” he agreed.

 

 _Overstimulated_. That's the word he'd wanted. The word popped  into his head as Wade's finger dragged against him. He buried his head under the pillow when Wade got up. Not that it did anything to keep him from tracking the other's movement. He tried to just follow Wade from the sound of his footsteps and movement to distract himself from how badly he wanted to cry from sheer frustration.

 

“Shit,” he whispered. “Wade?” He said a bit louder, shoving the pillow off of his head.

 

“I'm here, I'm back.”

 

Peter tried to smile at him. “This wasn't anything you did,” he explained quickly. Wade _had_ to know that. He was going to make him understand that if he needed to.

 

Wade looked unconvinced, but glanced away to focus on that he was doing, running a soft damp cloth between his cheeks to wipe away the excess lube.

 

“I mean it,” Peter continued. Wade wasn't touching him anymore, and he was secretly grateful. He carefully stretched out his legs behind him, doing his best to ignore the scratchiness of the towel. “That was awesome, and we should definitely try it again. Soon.” So long as he didn't move, things were tolerable.

 

“You're sure you're ok?” Wade asked softly.

 

 _Well, no, not right now_ , Peter didn't say. “I will be.”

 

He watched as Wade stood next to him, fretting.

 

“Babe. Lay down next to me?”

 

Wade hesitated for a moment before walking around the bed and settling down on the bare mattress, keeping a few inches of distance between them. Peter wasn't sure how Wade knew to do that, but he was grateful. And he could easily reach over and grab Wade's hand as soon as that felt feasible.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I love you, Wade Wilson.”

 

That finally got something of a smile back on Wade's face. “I love you too, Peter Parker.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot and found family bonding. And more smut. Because it's the holidays!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the crux of this chapter will be addressed again from Tony and Loki's POV in the next fic I write out. Lots more interesting stuff happens, I promise. :)
> 
> And the smut in this chapter wasn't planned. But SOMEONE just couldn't keep his hands to himself. :P

_You're the fear, I don't care_   
_'Cause I've never been so high_   
_Follow me to the dark_   
_Let me take you past our satellites_ _  
_You can see the world you brought to life, to life

\--Ellie Goulding, _Love Me Like You Do_

 

Peter hadn't been paying too much attention to the group text that had left his phone buzzing most of the day. They were discussing something about Christmas plans. But he and Wade already had plans: May and Ellie were going to come over on Christmas Eve, and Ellie was going to stay over for Christmas morning.

 

Those plans being finalized with the Prestons (who has been invited to stay for dinner, but had politely declined) had left Wade a vibrating mess of excitement and anxiety.

 

Wade couldn't recall _properly_ celebrating Christmas before, but he was pretty sure he had at one point or another. He'd zoned out a little when they were decorating the tree, telling Peter that it felt familiar.

 

“Good familiar?” Peter asked.

 

“Mmhmm!” Wade gave him a bright, authentic smile, and Peter couldn't resist stepping closer and giving him a kiss.

 

The smile turned soft as they wrapped their arms around each other, pressing as close as they could manage. It was warm and comforting and Peter never wanted to let go.

 

Which was when his phone pinged, letting him know that he was being messaged directly, as he'd muted the group chat.

 

Peter grumbled, tightening his hold on Wade. Then his phone pinged again.

 

“Could be important?” Wade suggested.

 

“Don't care.”

 

“Could be May.”

 

“Ok,” Peter huffed as he let go, retrieving his phone from the table.

 

>> Tony: @Peter Are you coming?

 

>> Clint: @Peter Wade can come too.

 

He blinked, scrolling up to skim over the conversation.

 

“Hey, Wade. Tomorrow night some of The Avengers are getting together for a bonfire or something at Clint's. Do you want to go?”

 

“Do you want to go?”

 

Peter shrugged. “Looks like it's a camping thing? Might be fun, I've never been camping.”

 

Wade dropped the ornament he'd been holding, and Peter was glad it was one of those shatter-proof ones. “ _What_?”

 

“What what? I've lived in Queens my whole life. When would I have gone--”

 

“We have to fix that. Immediately.”

 

“I mean, is tomorrow soon enough?”

 

Wade sighed dramatically, then replied in rapid-fire French.

 

_“No me Canadiense en mi. No hablo Francés.” Don't Canadian at me. I don't speak French._

 

 _“Apenas hablas Español,”_ Wade replied with a grin. _You barely speak Spanish._

 

Peter glared. “Are we going or not?”

 

“Fuck yeah, we are! Wait. We'll be back in time, right?”

 

“Of course,” Peter assured him. “We'll be back on the 21st. That'll give us plenty of time to decorate and prep and have _everything_ ready for Christmas Eve.” He could see Wade relax at his confidence.

 

Peter quickly tapped out a reply.

 

> Wade and I will be there!

 

* * *

 

Peter noted with some amusement that despite Wade's insistence that the three bags he'd originally come to the apartment with were all that he cared about, they still wound up visiting Wade's apartment for random things fairly frequently.

 

Not that Peter minded, but he did remind Wade that they had plenty of room if he wanted to move some of his “not important” things to their shared living space.

 

After spending the better part of an hour tracking down Wade's camping gear, the older man seemed inclined to agree.

 

“I don't expect you to abandon this place, you know?” Peter told him. “I understand why you--” _want? need?_

 

“I know, Petey-pie,” Wade smiled, tousling his hair.

 

“But we should definitely grab more of Ellie's stuff while we're here.”

 

He watched Wade's eyes go wide and Peter had to react fast to catch the box that they'd been tossing gear into.

 

“Hey, babe,” he started, watching Wade carefully packing very Ellie-like items into a second box. “Is, uh. Is there a reason for the buttplug in here?”

 

Wade calmly walked over and plucked the neon green plug out of the box. “Ah, right, guess we don't need that this time. Sorry, habit.”

 

“What?” Peter asked, unsure if he should laugh or not.

 

But Wade didn't go into detail, and instead went back to gathering Ellie's belongings, leaving Peter feeling confused and curious.

 

“Who'd you used to go camping with?” He asked after a few moments.

 

The Frozen blanket was the last thing to be packed snuggly into the box. “I go alone sometimes,” Wade said slowly. He looked thoughtful. “I know I've gone _with_ people before, though.”

 

Wade shrugged after a pause. “No matter!” He said brightly, but Peter could see that the missing memories bothered him.

 

“Do you want to bring it?” Peter asked, hoping to shift the conversation back to a happier topic.

 

“Don't you think that's a bit ambitious for you, Sugar Plum?” Wade gave him an amused look.

 

Peter didn't miss a beat. “I didn't say it was going in me.”

 

And, oh, Wade's expression squashed any uncertainty he held about his boldness. Without another word Wade dropped the plug back into the box Peter was holding.

 

* * *

 

Unfortunately they weren't able to make good on their plan to have Wade wear the delightfully “ambitious” plug, as they managed to oversleep and were in too much of a rush the next morning.

 

Wade pouted at him the entire walk to the Avenger's Tower.

 

“We can do it later,” Peter said as they entered the lobby.

 

“Not the same,” Wade mumbled.

 

“Do you just want to have that dirty little secret while we're hanging out with our friends?” Peter felt himself grin at Wade's sheepish look. Damn, he realized he wanted that too. “Definitely as soon as possible,” he promised.

 

“There you two are!” Tony said, sounding impatient as they stepped out of the elevator.

 

Wade perked up noticeably as they took in the group waiting for them. Tony and Loki, of course, but Hel, Fenrir (both in human-approximating forms), and the golden-haired woman that Peter had seen but not met almost two weeks before were also in attendance.

 

“Is this everyone?” Peter asked, glancing around. He'd been pretty sure that Bucky and Steve had said they planned on joining them as well.

 

“Not quite. We're still waiting for the greatest generation to join us,” Tony explained.

 

Fenrir stepped forward, grinning at Wade. “All in one piece?” He asked jovially.

 

“Yep!”

 

The wolf-god's arm draped over Wade's shoulders. “Good!” He chirped before pulling Wade down into a headlock. “You should thank whatever gods you pray to that it was Váli that reached you first after you shot him,” Fenrir growled.

 

“Fenrir!” Loki and the golden-haired woman called his name at once.

 

Wade actually looked alarmed as Fenrir released him and took a step back. “All good,” Wade said as soon as he righted himself. “I earned that.”

 

Hel jabbed her brother with her elbow. “What's wrong with you?” She hissed.

 

“Please, like you weren't right there, ready to tear him limb from limb when he attacked Váli.”

 

She gave Wade an apologetic look, but didn't deny Fenrir's claim.

 

“Oh!” Loki gestured for Wade and Peter to come closer. “Peter, Wade, this is Sigyn.”

 

“Hello!” Peter said, not quite willing to completely turn away from Fenrir just yet. “We didn't get to meet properly last time.”

 

Sigyn took both of his hands in her own, holding them up gently. Peter got the distinct impression that he and Wade both failed to properly reciprocate the gesture, but she didn't seem to mind. “It's lovely to meet you. You fought very bravely.”

 

Peter felt instantly lulled by her presence, no longer concerned about Fenrir's threats.

 

“And I'm sorry that you were caught up in the crossfire,” she said to Wade. Peter glanced over and saw that she seemed to be having the some calming effect on his boyfriend.

 

The elevator opened again. “Sorry!” Steve announced, Bucky and their dog, Pup, in tow.

 

“Finally!” Tony griped.

 

Peter noted that Pup was just _staring_ at Fenrir. Maybe a dog thing? He wondered.

 

“So, why are we meeting up here?” Bucky asked. “Wouldn't it make more sense to meet in the roof?”

 

“We're not flying,” Loki explained. “My children and I will be transporting us.”

 

“Oh _fuck me_ ,” Wade griped.

 

Peter opened his mouth to reply but stopped himself at Tony's wide-eyed look at his face. “I think it's cool!” Peter offered instead.

 

“So we're teleporting?” Steve asked, looking apprehensive.

 

“It's not teleporting,” Tony corrected. Peter didn't miss the way Loki's brief expression of surprise shifted to a warm smile as Tony did his best to explain the mechanics of Loki's realm manipulation.

 

“Ok, this is way over my fucking head,” Bucky complained. “It's gonna be weird but fast, got it.”

 

“Does Clint know he's about to host a handful of aliens?” Wade asked as the group got into position, making sure that everything they planned on bringing was touching someone.

 

“We didn't phrase it quite like that, no,” Loki looked amused. “But he's aware that they're coming, yes.”

 

“If anyone is afraid of the dark, I'd recommend closing your eyes,” Hel said softly.

 

Peter had closed his eyes the other two times they had traveled this way. He didn't intend to miss out this time.

 

At first, he was certain that everything has gone completely black. He could feel Wade to one side, and Fenrir to the other, and the vague sensation of movement. After a moment his eyes adjusted, and he could make out glimpses of gray whisps. Nothing solid, only the slightest concept of possible shape. He could also faintly see those he was traveling with.

 

But everything else? It was as if he were weightless. No heat, no cold, no wind. He couldn't even hear his companions breathing. Sometimes there was a spark of color but he couldn't be sure if he was actually seeing it, or if his brain was just desperate for stimulation.

 

He yelped when the world reformed around him again. He stumbled backwards and covered his ears and clenched his eyes closed. The transition from _nothing_ to _everything_ was too fast.

 

“Shit, Pete!” It was Wade wrapping around him, keeping him standing. He leaned heavily against him, waiting for his senses to stabilize.

 

“Holy Mother of Christ!” He was pretty sure that was Steve complaining.

 

“'M ok,” Peter said, slowly cracking one eye open. He let his hands fall away from his ears, and gently grasped Wade's arms. “I'm good. Was my own fault.” He'd gone through that before, and should have known better than to pay so much attention.

 

“Motherfucker. What the fuck was that?”

 

He looked over at Bucky, who looked similarly distressed. Pup was at his side, licking at his hand.

 

“I did say to close your eyes,” Hel offered.

 

“They were fucking closed!” Bucky griped.

 

“Are you well?” Sigyn had drifted to their side.

 

“Yeah,” Peter assured her. He tried to break free from Wade's grip, but Wade didn't seem ready to let go quite yet. “You alright, Babe?”

 

“Don't like it,” Wade murmered into Peter's hair.

 

“Maybe we'll figure out a different way back. I think Steve's on your side.”

 

Bucky, on the other hand, seemed to have recovered and was asking Loki a volley of questions about what they'd just experienced. He didn't seem particularly happy about Loki's response that they'd traveled via “magic”.

 

“I'm sorry, but it _is_ magic,” Loki explained. “It's an innate ability that my children and I possess. I can't offer a more fulfilling explanation than that.”

 

“Is it something you had to learn to do?” Peter asked. Wade hadn't let go, but he'd managed to maneuver then closer, at least.

 

“Not to do, no. It takes practice to do it well, though.”

 

Peter noted that Fenrir had come closer to them, but he seemed uninterested in their conversation. Steve tensed beside him, but he was pretty sure that Fenrir wasn't planning anything threatening.

 

“Do you just practice by going between places that are farther and farther away from each other?” Bucky asked.

 

“Initially, yes.”

 

But Peter was paying more attention to Fenrir, who had knelt down next to Pup. The dog looked uncomfortable, and was doing her best to stay positioned between the god and her humans. After a moment Fenrir was saying something softly, in a language Peter couldn't understand or place.

 

He'd caught the full attention of Loki and the four humans near him as he spoke. Bucky and Steve looked uncertain, he and Wade looked on curiously. But Loki was wearing an expression he'd seen on Wade a few times, usually whenever Ellie had done something surprising but remarkable and worth praise.

 

“Hey!” Peter looked up. He'd heard footsteps, but hadn't managed to pick them apart from everything else, especially with the snow muffling everything. Thankfully it was just Clint. Or… no.

 

“Oooh, this'll be fun!” Wade finally released him and started heading towards the small group moving towards them. Clint had Thor and Bruce with him.

 

While Sigyn moved with the others to meet them halfway, Loki, Hel, and Fenrir held back. Peter didn't know what was going on, but he could _feel_ how tense the three Giants got at Thor's impending arrival.

 

“Hey, Fenrir,” Peter said carefully. Instinct and experience told him that Fenrir was the one whose reaction he needed to be on guard for. “What did you say to Pup?”

 

“What?” Fenrir snapped, dark eyes not wavering from their focus on Thor. “Oh.” Did Fenrir relax the smallest bit? “Apologized. For scaring her. And attacking her humans.”

 

Peter's brow furrowed. He watched Tony greet Thor. Tony didn't look terribly impressed to see him either, but he didn't hold quite the same tension. After a moment Sigyn hugged Thor. “Did she, uh. Did she forgive you?” Just how capable were dogs of understanding concepts like that?

 

“Something like that, yeah.”

 

Thor was waving at them, looking slightly sheepish. They were far enough away that Peter couldn't quite make out anything that was being said, but the tone of their voices had stayed calm.

 

Then Tony was waving them over.

 

“Hel, Fenrir, stay here until I say otherwise,” Loki said, not sounding anywhere near as calm as the others.

 

“But--”

 

“No, Hel.” Loki's tone was firm

 

Fenrir crossed his arms. He obviously wasn't pleased with it. “Fine. But if he starts anything--”

 

“If my brother starts anything, then by all means, come to my aid.”

 

“I'll stay with you guys,” Peter offered.

 

“We don't need a human welp for protection,” Fenrir growled.

 

But Loki nodded and walked towards his brother.

 

“I don't think you'll need to be protected,” Peter said, pulling his hood up against the cold gust of wind that blew past them. “I just didn't think you'd want to be all alone.”

 

Fenrir barked a laugh. “You're very strange, Peter.”

 

“By the Nine,” Hel said, her eye going wide, just as Fenrir managed, “What the fuck?”

 

Peter leaned more towards Fenrir's reaction. He almost regretted staying back, because he couldn't possibly fathom what had lead to Thor gracefully dropping to one knee in front of Loki.

 

He could hear Wade's excited squeal, the only one to show something besides relief. He couldn't quite see Loki's reaction, so that probably wasn't true.

 

Fenrir was laughing beside them.

 

“What's going on?” Hel asked quickly.

 

“Thor's apologizing,” Fenrir explained. “Oh,” his nose wrinkled. “He's planning to apologize to us too.”

 

“He should.”

 

“Yeah, but Faðir's going to expect us to be all regal about it,” he pouted.

 

“Make him apologize to your true form, Fen,” Hel smiled conspiratorially. Peter suddenly understood how the two of them operated.

 

“And now Faðir's giving him shit for taking a knee. They say it's unbecoming of the King of Asgard.”

 

“So… yay for family drama chilling out?” Peter asked.

 

Hel shrugged. Loki was waving them forward. “For the moment, perhaps.”

 

* * *

 

By the time the sun set and everyone had set up camping equipment, they'd managed to get quite the fire going.

 

The flames danced higher than Peter was tall. It would have looked more like a funeral pyre if not for the laughter and roasting of marshmallows and other food that surrounded it.

 

There had been a brief argument about how to actually start the fire. He'd been surprised by Wade's determined “no magic” stance.

 

“Us puny humans have been making fire for thousands of years without your help,” Wade had huffed at Loki.

 

For some reason Loki found his insistence hilarious, but he wouldn't explain _why_.

 

But between Wade, Steve, Bucky, and Clint they had a fire roaring with no (obvious) assistance from Loki.

 

“Son of Wil!”

 

“Jesus shit!” Wade yelped and jumped forward. “Oh, hey, Thor,” he gasped catching his breath. “Good to see you, buddy, but I'm pretty sure my dad's name wasn't Wil.”

 

“I merely spoke in jest, Wade,” Thor explained, looking apologetic.

 

“Why didn't you jump?” Wade gave Peter an accusatory glare.

 

Peter just shrugged, “I'm really hard to sneak up on.”

 

“I could sneak up on you,” Bucky challenged.

 

“You could try,” Peter grinned.

 

“Gentleman! I bring a gift!”

 

“Oooh!” Wade perked up, and apparently all was forgiven. “I do love presents!”

 

Thor turned to Wade, “I have been informed that, like our warrior friends, you and Peter are unable to properly enjoy the effects of alcohol.”

 

“You have been informed correctly!” Wade's blue eyes were wide with excitement.

 

“Wait,” Steve said as Thor pressed glass bottles into each of their hands. “Are you saying this could actually get us drunk?”

 

“Of course!” Thor confirmed.

 

Peter sighed as Steve just _looked_ at him. “I'm underage.”

 

“Bullshit,” Bucky scoffed. “Peter, you've done all kinds of dangerous and brave shit. Getting drunk once in a while isn't going to hurt anything.”

 

“But--”

 

“Shut up, Steve.”

 

Wade's hand brushed through his hair. “Just drink it slowly, no sense risking making yourself sick.”

 

Peter sipped at the drink. It tasted of fruit and honey and something else he couldn't even begin to name. It was sweet, but not cloyingly so. Before long he felt warm and tingly and content. The heat of Wade's body next to his felt even more comfortable than usual.

 

“This is really fucking good,” Wade said with a grin.

 

“What was that about not making yourself sick?” Peter bumped their shoulders together.

 

“Pfft, it's not like I can get alcohol poisoning or anything.”

 

He became aware that Steve and Bucky's whispered conversation was becoming increasingly personal. He cast his eyes around for anything else to focus on. Clint was conversing with Hel and Sigyn. And Thor and Bruce were having what sounded like a jovial conversation with Fenrir. He wasn't keen on eavesdropping on anyone, though.

 

“We are _not_ fucking in front of our friends.”

 

Peter went still, trying very hard to unhear Tony's quiet admonishment. He took a longer drink, and watched as Steve, Bucky, and Pup wandered away.

 

“Why not? You weren't so against the idea a few days ago.”

 

He choked on his drink before grabbing Wade's arms and dissolving into a fit of giggles. “The fuck is in these drinks?”

 

“Why?” Wade looked amused.

 

“I keep hearing stuff that I'm definitely not supposed to be hearing.”

 

Wade snorted, “Naughty.”

 

“Shut up, I'm trying. But the shit Loki and Tony are over there saying--Don't look!”

 

“Too late. Yeah, they're totally trying to sneak off, too.”

 

“Hey!” Fenrir had appeared by their side, and Peter winced at the unnecessary volume of his voice. He glanced up at the god, a wide grin stretched across his face. “I saw you during the fight. You caught that hunk of metal like it was nothing!”

 

“Hunk of… you mean the car?” He asked warily.

 

“Fuck if I know. I just know you're very small and very strong.”

 

Peter frowned. Of course he _was_ quite small compared to Fenrir, that didn't mean he was inclined to agree with the description. “Stronger than most,” he conceded.

 

“Cool. I want you to hit me as hard as you can.”

 

Wade laughed, and Peter fixed him with a confused look.

 

“You want me to…” he paused. “Are we a distraction?” He pitched his voice lower.

 

“Yep!” He agreed. “Plus I just want to see how strong you actually are. Two birds.”

 

Peter pushed himself to his feet and immediately regretted moving so quickly. He felt the world shift slightly. But he blinked a few times and he felt stable again. “Fine. Hold this for me, would you?” He passed his bottle to Wade.

 

Wade took it, pouting. “So _you_ get to fight him?”

 

“You can fight the winner,” Fenrir said, taking a few steps away from the fire and the logs they had dragged over as makeshift seating.

 

“What… what's happening?” Clint asked, walking over, Thor and Bruce right behind him. Peter could see that Hel and Sigyn had also taken notice of Fenrir's booming voice.

 

“I'm going to hit Fenrir as hard as I can,” Peter explained.

 

Thor beamed. “Wonderful! An excellent way to get the blood pumping!”

 

“Please just keep all of your blood _inside_ you,” Bruce pleased.

 

“And don't forget the first two rules,” Clint added.

 

“D'you wanna go all wolf-y?” Peter asked.

 

“Please,” Fenrir snorted. “You need the handicap.”

 

Peter grinned. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually hit _anything_ with his full strength. Even when he'd sparred with Loki, he'd felt the need to hold back. Now, of course, he realized that that had been entirely unnecessary.

 

“You get one free hit, make it count.” Fenrir's voice sounded like a threat.

 

He adjusted his stance and balled his hands, remembering everything the others had taught him about how to throw a punch. He quickly considered Fenrir's most likely vulnerabilities.

 

When he finally moved, it was with every bit of enhanced speed and strength that spider had gifted him, striking Fenrir in the ear.

 

“Ow! Fuck!” Fenrir lunged at him. But he telegraphed his movements easily enough for Peter to duck and dodge, even with his coat hampering his movement.

 

But Peter had to stay on the defensive. He wasn't sure what would happen if Fenrir landed a hit, but he wasn't excited to find out, either.

 

“Peter!” That was Hel's voice.

 

“Don't distract me!” He called back, Fenrir's claws raking the air centimeters from his face.

 

“Go for his right shoulder!”

 

“Fuck you, Hel!”

 

Fenrir's eyes darted towards his sister, giving Peter all the opening he needed. He put as much weight as he could behind the kick that connected with Fenrir's shoulder.

 

Only for the god to dig his claws into his leg and hold him up by it. Peter yelped, was definitely bleeding. He tried to get any sort of leverage to try to get free. His web shooters were in his bag, doing him exactly zero good from there.

 

“Yield,” Fenrir commanded.

 

Peter quit struggling. Thrashing around wasn't helping. Instead he reached down, making sure his fingertips could reach the ground. It was covered in snow, so it wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing.

 

“You yield,” he challenged instead.

 

Fenrir just laughed. Peter shoved against the soft ground, and it was just enough to throw his surprised opponent off-balance. They both hit the ground and rolled.

 

At least Peter had speed on his side, and he quickly put as much distance between the two of them as he could. He pulled off his coat. If he was going to have to fight with an injured leg, he needed as much mobility as he could manage.

 

“I'm ending this!” Sigyn surprised him by stepping between them. Her tone brokered no argument, but he still waited until Fenrir visibly relaxed before he let his guard back down.

 

“Holy shit! Peter, are you ok?” Wade had grabbed his coat and draped it back over him.

 

“I'm fine,” he griped, feeling _very strongly_ that if only Hel hadn't interrupted, he totally… well, he probably wouldn't have won, he admitted. But he could have given Fenrir a better fight.

 

“Not bad!” Fenrir was smilingly as he draped an arm over Peter's shoulders, ignoring Wade's aggravated expression. “Another hundred years and you might even stand a chance.”

 

“Give me 5,” Peter retorted.

 

“Done.” His smile turned mischievous. “So, who's next? Wade? You said you wanted to fight the winner, right?”

 

“You didn't win,” Peter said as he pulled his coat back on. He felt even colder than he had before.

 

“Didn't lose, either.”

 

“You are ok, aren't you?” Hel had bounded over. “I really was trying to help.”

 

Peter tested his leg. The bleeding had already stopped. “Yeah, I'm good. You probably won't even be able to tell that anything happened by tomorrow morning.”

 

Hel looked relieved before turning to face Fenrir. “You and I never got to finish our bout.”

 

“Oh, you're on.” Fenrir held his arms out wide, taking a few steps back until he was sure he had the clearance to explode into his true form.

 

Clint swore, edging closer to the fire. Seeing Thor and Sigyn similarly retreat was enough to get everyone else to make plenty of room as well.

 

It was quickly apparent that Fenrir had been going easy on him - or maybe his human disguise threw him off more than Peter had expected. But they were both _fast_ , and while Hel used her smaller stature to her benefit, he quickly got the impression that she was used to fighting using magic and spells.

 

At one point she managed to knock Fenrir to the ground, which earned a whoop from the small crowd.

 

“Who's winning?” Peter didn't like how easily Loki had snuck up on him. He had heard Tony returning to the group, but the god had moved silently. But now that he's successfully snuck up on him, Loki was all but vibrating at his side.

 

“Uh - Oh shit!” Fenrir had caught Hel in his jaws and flung her bodily into the trees.

 

The silence dragged on for several long moments. Peter took a step forward, intending to go find out if Hel was alright or not, but Loki's hand on his shoulder stilled him.

 

His curiosity was sated almost instantly as several giant spikes of ice shot from the ground, trapping Fenrir where he stood.

 

“Hey!” The wolf snarled, “This is cheating! We agreed no magic!”

 

Hel appeared near them, drawing flames from the bonfire to her hands. They turned from red and orange to flickering between shades of blue and green as they danced around her. “That was before you _bit me,”_ she hissed.

 

“Beloved, give me your hand,” Peter glanced over and watched Tony's hand link with Loki's, despite the confusion evident on his face. Loki's free hand extended and there was a quick flash of light blue surrounding the group.

 

That was something that that became obvious before Peter had a chance to question as Fenrir broke free of the ice prison that Hel created and several of the shards came close, only to be reflected by whatever magic Loki had cast to protect them.

 

“Brother, we should stop this.” Thor said.

 

“Or we could let them release some of their pent up aggression somewhere where the risk of mortal casualties is effectively zero.” Loki countered.

 

The fight - because they had definitely gone beyond mere sparring - turned increasingly violent as the siblings tore at each other with fangs and magic.

 

However, Peter noted after a moment, that despite the spectacle, no blood had been shed since Fenrir had bitten Hel. He'd seen first-hand how easily the two of them could rip beings apart. So, maybe he had been wrong. This was still within the realm of something friendly.

 

It was over sooner than Peter would have expected. He personally liked to think that he'd helped wear Fenrir out, although he knew that was unlikely, at best.

 

Eventually the two gods came to a standstill, breathing hard and looking thoroughly exhausted.

 

“You get that out of your systems?” Sigyn asked after they finally collapsed in a heap against each other. They both grumbled affirmatives.

 

“So… who won?” Wade asked, sounding disappointed.

 

“Pretty sure it was a tie,” Peter told him.

 

“Lame,” Wade huffed.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the trip was largely uneventful, truth be told. Thor sent them home with several more bottles of the alcohol, much to their delight.

 

“Beeeeedddd,” Peter stretched out as soon as he hit the bed. “I missed yooouuuuu.”

 

“You slept on the ground for one night!” Wade laughed, watching Peter roll back and forth.

 

“And it sucked,” Peter informed him.

 

“Wuss.”

 

“It was cooold,” Peter made a point to draw out the word as he stopped rolling, laying down on his front.

 

Wade sat down on the bed next to him. “You know what else sucks?”

 

Peter couldn't resist the opening, “Me, if you ask real nice.” He grinned at Wade's stunned expression.

 

“I was gonna say how much we need to get done over the next the days.”

 

“Oh yeah, I guess that's true.” He pushed himself up so he could look at Wade better. “Guess we don't have much time for anything else. What with the decorating, and making sure everything is ready for dinner, and getting Ellie's room ready, and--”

 

Wade surged down, capturing Peter's mouth in a hard kiss.

 

“Is that you asking nicely, then?”

 

“Only if you were serious.”

 

Peter wasted no time in flipping their positions until Wade was pinned under him. “Wouldn't have offered if I wasn't.”

 

“ _Fuck._ Then yes, please.”

 

Peter slid down until he could free Wade's stiffening cock from his pants. He stroked slowly, watching with fascination as it swelled and hardened against his hand. He'd never really taken the time to just look and admire, so he took the time now, gently tracing the webbing of scars that covered the skin, even here.

 

It wasn't long before his mind wandered, circling back to the matter at hand. Just what would Wade's cock feel like inside him? Wade's soft whine made him decide that he'd teased his guy enough, and he leaned forward to nuzzle against his length. He was _very_ aware that Wade was going to do everything possible to make sure it didn't hurt. But, Peter decided, if it did hurt? Just a little? That would probably be ok, too.

 

“Pete…” And, oh, Wade sounded desperate already.

 

“Sorry,” he wasn't sorry at all. “I was just thinking about how incredible your dick is going to feel inside me.”

 

As soon as his mouth sank down around the head of Wade's cock, his hips jerked up. Peter pressed a hand down on Wade's hip. It wasn't that he minded Wade thrusting into his mouth - quite the opposite, in fact - but he knew just how much Wade liked it when Peter held him still. Something that was reinforced by Wade's answering moan.

 

The hand not holding Wade against the bed wrapped tightly around the base of Wade's cock, stroking in tandem as he bobbed his head.

 

Filth and affection poured from Wade's mouth in equal measure as he babbled encouragement. He mostly just let the words flow over him, like a warm soft blanket, but one suggestion caught his attention.

 

He pulled off, but his hand didn't still. “What was that?”

 

Wade fixed him with a dazed look. “Wha?”

 

“Something about my fingers in your ass?” Peter prompted.

 

He hadn't thought Wade's pupils could go any wider.

 

“Is that something you'd like me to do?”

 

Wade whimpered as he nodded.

 

“Ok. Can you be good for a few seconds while I grab the lube?” When Wade shook his head frantically Peter laughed. He released his cock altogether. “I need you to use your words, Babe.”

 

“Didn't want you to stop touching me,” he explained.

 

“You know, despite your fantasies, spit is really a terrible lubricant,” Peter informed him as he crawled towards the bedside table. “It only creates a thin layer and dries out really fast. Plus it can dry out your skin and cause cracking and--”

 

“Peter. Please stop scienceing at me and hurry up.”

 

“On the other hand,” Peter continued after he'd settled back down between Wade's legs and helped him kick his pants off. “I guess I could have used your precum.” He ran a finger along Wade's stomach, collecting the bit that had collected there. “That's actually meant to be a sexual lubricant after all.” He locked eyes with Wade as he licked his finger clean. “Too bad I already swallowed most of it.”

 

Wade keened. “Fuck. Peter. Please. You're killing me, kiddo.”

 

“Don't be dramatic,” Peter chided, pressing a lube slicked finger against Wade's hole.

 

He ducked his head down, taking Wade back into his mouth as he slowly eased his finger inside. Wade's fingers dug into his hair, tugging sharply. Peter hummed in approval, letting Wade control the movements of his head while he focused on the movements of his finger.

 

“Baby Boy,” Wade gasped after a few minutes, “I'm close.”

 

Peter took that as his cue to take as much of Wade into his mouth as he could manage, and his finger had definitely managed to brush against something interesting given the way that Wade screamed as he came, his fingers tightening in Peter's hair until he was certain he'd lost more than a few stands.

 

He swallowed down Wade's cum and only popped off once he was sure he'd gotten every drop. He shifted up and rested his head against Wade's stomach, enjoying the way his muscles twitched under his face.

 

It took Wade several minutes before his breathing returned to normal and he could look down at Peter with a less dazed expression.

 

“You good?”

 

Wade grunted.

 

“Ok,” Peter rolled off the bed, stretching. “I'm gonna go wash up a bit and start working on a brine for the turkey, ok?”

 

“What?” Wade snapped out of his post-coital stupor and sat up. Peter looked back to see his face etched with anxiety and something else he couldn't name yet.

 

“The turkey? That we're making for Christmas?” He paused. “Do you brine ham? I should look that up.”

 

“No, Pete. I… Don't you want me to fucking reciprocate?”

 

“Um.” Peter was pretty sure this was something that he needed to treat delicately. “I… not really?” He offered. “Or, not right now?

 

Wade's expression shifted to one that Peter recognized that meant he was feeling especially self-loathing.

 

“Wade,” Peter said firmly, “tell me what you're thinking.”

 

“I misjudged. I thought you were into it.”

 

Peter snorted. “Good. Because I was.”

 

“But you're not,” Wade let out a distressed sigh. “You did _all that_. For me. And you weren't turned on at all?”

 

He walked back over to the bed, his expression softening. “Yes. Because I enjoyed it. I was having a lot of fun. I _like_ doing things that get you off.” He pressed his forehead gently against Wade's. “Especially if I get rewarded by making you scream like that.”

 

Wade huffed. “Still.” He didn't sound willing to let Peter just brush off the topic. “I don't like the idea of just… using you.”

 

“Again. Good. I don't like the idea of being used. But we've talked about this before. Just because I'm not horny doesn't mean I'm not into it. I promise I won't ever do anything - or let you do anything,” because that was what Wade was actually concerned about, even if he wouldn't come out and say it, “that I don't want to do.”

 

“Ok,” Wade replied softly. “I believe you, but it's still…” He struggled with what he wanted to say. “I'm used to it being more… _obvious_ when someone's enjoying what we're doing.”

 

Peter grinned. “Want me to start doing a running commentary? I'm not as good at dirty talk as you, but I bet I could manage.”

 

“That'd be pretty hard with my cock in your mouth.”

 

“You and Ellie can teach me sign language. I'll just sign all the vulgar thoughts that run through my head while I'm blowing you.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Wade had finally relaxed. “Like what?” He purred.

 

Peter pulled back and poked him on the nose. “Not right now. I was serious about cleaning up and getting started on that brine.” He sighed at Wade's pout. “Or we can take a shower together and _then_ start the dinner prep.”

 

“Yes. That plan. Let's do that plan instead.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Life came at me fast and didn't leave me with as much time/energy to write as I'd expected. OTL
> 
> Also: my knowledge of law (as it applies to this chapter) came from like 15 minutes of googling so... Artistic Liberties?

_Fading in, fading out_  
_On the edge of paradise_  
_Every inch of your skin is a holy grail I've got to find_ _  
_ Only you can set my heart on fire, on fire

\--Ellie Goulding, _Love Me Like You Do_

 

**Wade**

 

It was Christmas Eve and Wade was definitely not on the verge of a panic attack as he walked Shane and Emily through Peter's - and his, he had to remind himself - apartment. Ellie had been up once before and didn't seem to have any problems remembering where things were as she happily tugged Jeff along on her own tour.

 

Peter was definitely handling the situation better than he was. “Yeah, for all intents and purposes, this room would be Ellie's,” he explained as they moved out of the guest room.

 

“And you're sure you don't mind having an 8-year-old staying here?” Emily asked.

 

“What? I love--”

 

Ellie and Jeff picked that moment to discover the potential of the acoustics in the bathroom. Loudly.

 

“Eleanor! Jeffery!” Shane called out sternly. “You know better!” Wade felt himself wince at the tone of his voice, but he couldn't place _why_.

 

There was a brief moment of silence before Ellie replied, “No we don't!”

 

Peter snorted and Wade elbowed him in the arm, not that he was doing much better at not laughing. They both straightened up at Emily's unimpressed look.

 

Ellie came back into the living room, dragging Jeff behind her. He looked a bit sheepish at having been chastised, but Ellie didn't seem fazed at all.

 

“Sorry Peter, sorry _Papi_ , I promise not to do it again.” She was at least trying not to smile as she apologized. “But the echo in there is really great! You should try it out!”

 

Peter grimaced. “I think I'm good, Ells.”

 

Jeff looked properly contrite now. “Right. You hear stuff really good, huh? Sorry for bein’ so noisy, sir.”

 

Wade had to turn away to keep from laughing as Peter floundered in response to the heartfelt apology.

 

“Wade,” Emily said quietly, gesturing away from the kids. “You should know, we did our best, but Ellie has seen the video of you shooting Peter.”

 

His stomach dropped. This wouldn't have felt unexpected if he'd ever taken a second to consider that possibility. But of course he hadn't. “That. It's complicated. Aliens and--”

 

She cut off his desperate attempts to explain. “Hey. Calm down. Do you think we'd be here if we thought for even a second that Ellie would be in danger with you and Peter?”

 

The panic attack that Wade definitely wasn't having was now threatening to burst forth. Would she be in danger with him? Could he have hurt Ellie while under Váli's influence? He didn't want to think so, but… he'd shot Peter. He could still remember being irritated at how many bullets he'd wasted.

 

“--just wanted to make sure you knew about it. She'll probably ask, after all.”

 

Wade blinked. Nodded. He'd at least caught the gist of what Emily was telling him. Ellie knew he shot Peter. Had seen it. Of course she'd have questions.

 

“Well, come on, Jeff, it's getting late,” Shane said. “You don't want Santa to miss you because we weren't at Grandma and Grandpa's like we told him, right?” He smiled warmly at Ellie. “And don't worry, we made sure to let him know you'd be here tonight, Elle.”

 

“Thanks Shane!” She said brightly. Ellie waited until the door closed before making a face at the claim.

 

“Not a fan of Santa?” Peter asked, having caught her expression.

 

“I'm _eight_ ,” she said, as if that explained everything. Maybe for her it did.

 

“Plenty of 8-year-olds still believe in Santa,” Wade reminded her.

 

“Plenty of 8-year-olds are dumb.”

 

“ _Eleanor_.” At least Peter was doing a better job of not laughing this time.

 

Ellie sighed. “It's not like I'm ruining it for them,” she said quietly. “But it gets hard to pretend after a while.”

 

Peter dropped down to her level, “Do Shane and Emily not know that you don't believe in Santa anymore?”

 

She shrugged. “They're smart. They probably know. But it makes them happy. Plus they have to keep it up for Jeffy, so.”

 

“Hey, Elle-bell,” Wade smiled. “Do you want to go wash up and help us finish making dinner?”

 

Her eyes lit up. “Yes!”

 

“Wow,” Peter said, watching her scurry back to the restroom. “She's really excited.”

 

“Yep,” Wade grinned. “Because she knows she gets to play with knives.”

 

“What?” Peter squeaked as Ellie ran back in, brushing her still damp hands off on her shirt.

 

Wade brought a step stool that they'd bought for this purpose over to the counter so that Ellie could stand in front of the bag of potatoes. He winked back at Peter. “Ok. SASS me.”

 

“Stop and make sure no one else is close enough to get hurt.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Cut food away from yourself. A sharp knife is a safe knife… And….um…”

 

“What do we do with the knives when we're not using them?” Wade prompted.

 

“Oh!” Ellie beamed. “Store them somewhere covered. In a sheath or a knife block!”

 

“Great job!” Wade pulled the bright green knife from the wooden block and passed it to Ellie. “Are you ready to help me cut up a bunch of potatoes so that we can mash them?”

 

Wade focused on helping Ellie rough cut the potatoes and load them into a pot while Peter did his best to do things like getting food out of the oven and _not_ hover anxiously.

 

Once the “fun part” was finished, Ellie was more than happy to leave the rest of dinner prep to Peter and Wade, skipping over to the kitchen table and admiring the food that Peter had already brought over.

 

“Hey, kiddo,” Peter stumbled over the pet name as he addressed Ellie. He could practically _hear_ Peter's train of thought, and grinned down at the rolls he was buttering. “Do you want to help me set the table?”

 

“Okie doke!”

 

Peter was suddenly right next to him, pulling open the drawer to get at the flatware. “ _You can never call me kiddo again_ ,” he hissed under his breath.

 

Wade _mostly_ managed to keep his laughter to himself, and had sobered up by the time May arrived just a few minutes later.

 

“Aunt May!” Peter practically bounced across the room in his hurry to help carry the pies she'd brought with her. “I told you you didn't need to bring anything,” but his boyfriend was grinning from ear to ear.

 

“As if I'd leave my boys to suffer through store bought pies on Christmas!” May laughed.

 

Wade felt himself melt at how easily May claimed him as one of her own. As if he were family. It was almost dizzying. Even Yellow's snide comments weren't enough to dislodge the warmth that flooded his chest.

 

 _Don't fuck this up,_ White offered, sounding almost kind. _Almost._

 

“And you must be Ellie!” May crouched down to Ellie's level, holding out a hand towards his suddenly somber daughter. Ellie hadn't tried to hide, but she looked up at Wade, eyes wide with uncertainty.

 

May pulled her hand back. “It's ok,” she said soothingly. “We don't have to touch if you don't want to.”

 

“We don't?” Ellie asked quietly.

 

“Nope. It's completely up to you.”

 

After a moment Ellie stuck her hand out, and May shook it gently. It was a brief handshake. Wade did his best to compartmentalize his desire to find anyone who thought it was ok to pressure Ellie into _anything_ and unalive them. This definitely wasn't the time.

 

“Merry Christmas, Wade.” May came over and Wade accepted her hug with only a second's hesitation.

 

How on Earth was May just so _fine_ with him? So accepting? Maybe she didn't realize he was Bad yet. But he was living with her 18-year-old nephew. Sleeping with him. The boy she'd raised as her own child.

 

Or maybe she was just that Good. Peter had to get it from somewhere, after all.

 

“Are you ok?” May asked.

 

 _Shit_. How long had he been silent? “Yeah, sorry. Just… I'm ok.” He hoped his smile was convincing enough. If not, she didn't press.

 

“Are you guys just planning to let the food get cold, or what?” Peter asked, gesturing to the table.

 

As they ate, Ellie started coming back out of her shell. Apparently she had decided that May was Good, too.

 

“I'm glad I'm finally getting the chance to meet you, Ellie,” May said warmly, passing her a second dinner roll.

 

Her smile turned mischievous as she looked over at Peter. “Is this what having grandchildren is like, I wonder?”

 

Peter choked on nothing. Wade had watched as May waited for Peter to finish swallowing his bite of food before speaking. He could see Peter's eyes widen in something like panic, and Wade was pretty sure it wasn't related to the coughing fit he was struggling with.

 

Ellie giggled, looking delighted at Peter's reaction.

 

“ _May_ ,” Peter complained.

 

“Aunt May,” Ellie started, and apparently that was going to be a thing. Should he call her that, too? “Have you seen the videos of the giant wolves?”

 

Peter went still. It was actually unnerving to see the usually active boy so motionless while still awake.

 

“I did,” May had a slight frown. “It was very scary. I don't think I've been that scared since… Well, it's been a long time.”

 

Ellie nodded. “The wolves were really pretty though.” She said thoughtfully. “But it was really scary to see _Papi_ fighting them.”

 

May's eyes met his, and he felt pinned down. He was pretty sure Peter had just stopped breathing altogether. And why was he so nervous? It wasn't like he tried hiding that he was Deadpool. Except… May had been _afraid_ when she's seen Peter with Deadpool. Had threatened him. And then bought him lunch. It had been a very confusing day, to be sure.

 

“But even scarier,” Ellie continued, either unable or unwilling to read the room, “was seeing _Papi_ and Peter fighting.”

 

Peter's sharp inhale was an unnatural pitch as May's attention shot to him instead.

 

“That's odd,” she said in a tone that let them both know she didn't find anything confusing at all, “I didn't see either of you in any of the videos or pictures.”

 

She was giving Peter the chance to explain. To tell her the truth in whatever way he felt was best. Peter seemed to shake off the worst of his stunned expression and opened his mouth to say… something. But he didn't get the chance.

 

“Did… did you not know?” Ellie asked, her voice very small. “Peter, I'm sorry! I know you asked me not to tell anyone that you're Spider-Man but I thought--”

 

“It's ok, Ellie,” Peter managed. He looked relieved as he turned back to May, “Surprise?”

 

May nodded, folding her hands on the table in front of her. “I mostly knew,” she admitted. Then, to Wade, “And I knew about you from the moment we met properly. You have a very distinctive voice.”

 

But Ellie still looked close to tears. “Hey, you're ok, Jelly Bean,” Wade said softly, reaching over to rub at her back. “It was an accident. No one's upset, and no one's in trouble.”

 

“Yeah, Ellie, it's fine. I, uh,” Peter gave May a sheepish look. “I definitely should have said something earlier anyway.”

 

It took another several minutes, and more words of consolation, before Ellie calmed back down.

 

“Why were you fighting?” Ellie asked after a bit.

 

Wade looked between May and Peter as he tried to figure out how to explain what had happened. “The red wolf… He did something to me. Confused me. I didn't recognize Peter, and I thought he was a Bad guy,” he explained carefully.

 

“But you were ok?” Ellie turned her attention to Peter. “I saw you get shot.”

 

Peter nodded. “Yeah. Loki healed me right up.” He poked at his shoulder where he'd been shot.

 

“Loki?” May asked quietly. “He was there that day. With the wolves.”

 

“Yeah. They're…” Peter frowned. “It's complicated. But they're not bad. It's like Wade said, the red one we were fighting. He's confused. And hurting.”

 

“Are you gonna help him get better?”

 

Wade bit the inside of his lip. He knew what would happen if he saw Váli again. Especially now that he couldn't fuck with his mind again. He'd kill the god for what he'd done. For turning him into a weapon.

 

“We're going to try our best.” Peter answered for both of them.

 

Thankfully that seemed to be enough for Ellie, and they were easily able to shift to happier, easier topics. She told them about the rest of her plans for winter break, and how she was doing in classes. She mentioned very pointedly that the hadn't gotten in trouble for refusing to speak in English again. She'd even made friends with a girl who spoke sign language, so she was getting to practice that a lot, too!

 

By the time they had finished May's absolutely incredible pie - he was never going to be able to go back to frozen pies, he just knew it - Ellie was yawning and nodding off in her chair.

 

“It looks like someone is ready for a bath and then bedtime, huh?” Wade asked.

 

Ellie pouted for a short moment. “Noooo,” she whined. “I'm awake!”

 

“But you know,” Peter said, leaning across the table conspiratorially, “the sooner you go to bed, the sooner you can wake us up at some outrageously early time to open presents.”

 

That did it. “Fiiiine,” she said with a put-upon sigh, as if the three of them couldn't see how excited the prospect of waking up to presents made her.

 

As soon as he and Ellie left the room to get her bath started, he could hear May talking to Peter in hushed tones. He couldn't make out what was being said, but her concern was evident in her voice.

 

“I really do try to just focus on the small-scale stuff,” Peter was saying as he returned. “But when my friends need help, I can't… I can't _not_ help them, you know?”

 

“I do,” May had taken his hand in her’s. “You're a Good person, Peter. And I know that Ben would be so proud of you. _I'm_ so proud of you.”

 

Wade stopped in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt their moment.

 

“I'm sorry I never said anything,” Peter said somberly. “I didn't want you to worry about me. You worry enough, and--”

 

“It's my job to worry about you. It's… honestly it's kind of a relief. A lot of things make more sense now.” She paused for a moment. “I've seen the things you can do, though. How?”

 

“Oh. Uh. Remember a few years ago when my class visited Oscorp?”

 

“And you spent the next few days in bed crying?”

 

“What?” Wade hadn't meant to interrupt, but he hasn't heard this part. He returned to the table.

 

Peter blushed. “I wasn't--. Well ok, I was. But I thought I was dying!”

 

“ _We_ thought you were dying,” May agreed.

 

“I'm sorry, _what_?” Wade repeated.

 

“Uuf. Ok. So, first: at Oscorp there was this crazy genetically engineered spider. They made her radioactive. Gamma rays, I think. She bit me.” Wade knew this part of the story. “And like, I felt weird for a few hours, but nothing all that scary? Um…” He watched Peter fidget, slowly tearing apart the paper napkin in front of him. “Everything hurt. A lot. For a couple of days, it was like… Well, my _everything_ was changing. It was like every cell was on fire, but worse. I can't really describe it.”

 

He didn't really need to, either. Even if Wade didn't know for certain what Peter had gone through, it sounded similar enough to his own experiences. Too similar. “Why didn't you ever tell me?”

 

Peter just shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “Anyway,” he turned back to May. “You've seen the videos, right? Now I'm all fast and strong and I heal really quickly from stuff.”

 

“Like your broken arm?” May raised an eyebrow. “So, what _really_ happened that day?”

 

Why was she looking at him. “Uh. We fought… Who were we fighting, Pete?”

 

“Big scary guy,” Peter said with a shrug. “I landed wrong on my arm. The story I told was _mostly_ true.”

 

May hummed as she thought. “In the future, I want you to tell me before you do something extra dangerous.”

 

“I. I mean. Sometimes--. With Avengers stuff, sometimes it's kind of classified.”

 

“I didn't say you had to be specific,” she corrected. “But I want to know. Even if all you can tell me is that you're doing something risky.”

 

Conflicting emotions battled on Peter's face for a moment before he sighed. “Ok,” he agreed. “Most of what I do is stuff like stopping muggings, or robberies. I'm not usually all wrapped up in all this alien stuff.”

 

Wade grinned. “Some of the alien stuff has been cool, though.”

 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Some of it,” he conceded. “Not a lot. But some.”

 

Right. No, Peter definitely had been getting a raw deal with their most recent adventures.

 

“ _Papi_ ?” Ellie was poking her head out from the guest bedroom - _her_ bedroom.

 

“You ready for bed, Sweet Pea?”

 

Ellie nodded.

 

“Well then, I guess I'll head out,” May said, standing up.

 

“You don't have to go,” Wade assured her.

 

“No, no. It's late, anyway.” She pulled Peter into a tight hug. “I love you, Peter.”

 

“I love you, too, Aunt May. Text me when you get home, ok?”

 

“I will. And you should know that I have way more questions about the whole Spider-Man thing, ok?”

 

“Ok. Write them down and you can grill me properly when I come over this weekend,” he replied dutifully.

 

“Merry Christmas, Wade,” May said as she wrapped him up in his own warm hug.

 

“Thanks, May, you too.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Aunt May.” Ellie had ventured into the room.”

 

“Merry Christmas. I hope you sleep well, Ellie. It was great to meet you.”

 

Ellie smiled brightly and gave May a quick hug. “You too,” she replied before darting back towards her room. She hesitated at the door. “You're gonna come read me a story, right _Papi_?”

 

“Of course, sweetie!”

 

“Aww,” Peter cooed. “You're so sweet, Dadpool.”

 

“Peter too!” Ellie called.

 

“Bye boys,” May grinned as she boarded the elevator.

 

“Bye,” Wade waved. “You heard the young lady. C'mon Spider-Dad.”

 

Peter balked at the nickname but followed after him all the same.

 

* * *

 

**Peter**

 

What wound up happening was that Peter started reading _The Hobbit_ while Wade braided Ellie's hair. He didn't think he was particularly good at reading out loud, but Ellie seemed to appreciate his attempts at giving each of the characters voices. Which only became a problem once the dwarves arrived, and everyone but Thorin, Gandalf, and Bilbo quickly ran together in his mind. Ellie didn't seem to have the same problem, though, and was quick to correct him when he used the wrong voice. His efforts seemed to impress Wade, too.

 

Wade had been less impressed when Peter had insisted that they actually wear clothing to sleep that night.

 

He was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling as Wade got into bed next to him. “So,” he said after a moment. “Spider-Dad?”

 

“Did I make you uncomfortable?”

 

Peter shrugged. “Not… I don't know.” He rolled to his side. “You know I love Ellie, right? And she's your daughter. And you're my boyfriend. But like… What does that actually make me?”

 

“A very stressed out teenager, from the sounds of it,” Wade said.

 

“That's kind of my point,” Peter admitted. “I'm a teenager. And don't get me wrong, I would do anything for that kid, but the idea of being a parental figure is… Daunting.”

 

Wade's smile shifted, and Peter noticed that Wade wasn't quite looking at him, but rather just past his ear. Either the voices were getting loud, or he was lost in thought. Or both, possibly.

 

“Wade?”

 

“Yeah, sorry. Just.” He blinked, and seemed to be present again. “You don't need to worry about it too much, Pete.” His voice was tight, even though his expression wasn't betraying his emotions. “After all, I signed away my rights, remember? As far as anyone's concerned, Ellie isn't _really_ my daughter anymore.”

 

“Oh, Wade.” Peter scooted across the bed and draped an arm over the older man. “You have to know that's not true,” he said softly.

 

Wade ducked his head against Peter's shoulder. “Sure it is,” he whispered. “It's in the best interests of the child,” Wade muttered.

 

“What?”

 

“S'what the documents said. Me forfeiting my rights as her father. It was in her best interest. The best thing for her overall well being. The lawyer cited abandonment, and claimed that I've put Ellie in danger in the past. Said I couldn't offer her any stability.”

 

Peter frowned, confused. “Didn't you do that voluntarily?”

 

Wade shifted in an approximation of a shrug. “I wasn't exactly happy about it,” he explained. “I don't think anyone expected me to actually read the fucking thing.” His laugh was dark and full of self-deprecation. “It's not like they're _wrong_ ,” Wade's hand drifted up and he clung to the material of Peter's loose t-shirt. “But still, there's nothing like seeing your own goddamned incompetence written out in black and white.”

 

“You're not--.” Peter stopped himself. Really, what Wade was saying _was_ true. No one would think that Wade would be an ideal choice as a primary caregiver for an 8-year-old. Except… “You didn't abandon her,” he corrected fiercely. “That's bullshit.”

 

“Is it?”

 

“Unless you lied to me, yeah. You said that as soon as you knew she existed you did everything you could to find her again. To make sure she was safe, and cared for. That's not _abandonment_.”

 

Wade pulled back, looking stunned. “I--. Thank you, Peter.”

 

Peter gave him a quick kiss. “Besides,” he said fondly. “Do you honestly think Ellie sees you as anything _but_ her super amazing _Papi_?”

 

“No,” Wade admitted after a moment. “She loves the shit out of me.”

 

Grinning, Peter couldn't resist kissing him again, deeper this time. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Same here.”

 

“You're such a sap, Baby Boy.”

 

Peter hummed. “Not sure how I feel about that name anymore, babe.”

 

“Too bad. You've already taken kiddo from me. Plus, I have definitely never called Ellie “Baby Boy”.”

 

He huffed. “I should hope not.”

 

Wade's hand released his shirt and wrapped around his side. “My Sweet Boy,” he purred.

 

“Wade.”

 

“My Itsy-Bitsy Spidey”

 

“I'm going to sleep.” Peter closed his eyes.

 

He felt a soft kiss against his forehead. “My favorite boy.”

 

Peter smiled despite himself. “Go to sleep, nerd.”

 

* * *

 

Peter was awake as soon as the door opened, but he didn't open his eyes just yet. He could hear Wade's breathing change - he was awake too. He wondered if Wade was doing a better job keeping the smile off of his face as Ellie tried so hard to sneak closer to the bed.

 

He recognized what the sound of her shifting feet would mean a second before she landed bodily on the two of them.

 

Wade grunted from the sudden weight, but after a moment his laughter filled the room. Peter quickly rolled out of the way as the two of them engaged in an immediate tickle war.

 

“Good morning to you, too,” Peter grinned at their exuberance.

 

“Morning Peter!” Ellie chirped. “Presents?”

 

“Don't you want to eat breakfast first?” Wade asked, pulling her down into a hug.

 

“No,” she said simply. “I want to open presents. Then breakfast.”

 

Peter laughed as he shuffled free from the blankets.

 

“What do you think, Peter?” Ellie turned to him. “Presents first, right?”

 

He looked over at Wade for direction, but he just shrugged. “Yeah, I always wanted to open presents first, too,” Peter agreed.

 

At Ellie's insistence he and Wade sat on the couch while she sorted the presents out. When she started to hand over a small bright blue box to Peter, Wade snatched it from his grasp.

 

“That one's for later,” Wade said with a wink.

 

Peter wanted to ask why he'd bothered putting it under the tree, but decided it wasn't worth the effort right then.

 

Ellie sat happily with a small mountain of boxes, most were wrapped in the same bright blue paper, from Wade, and two in the most glittery wrapping paper that Peter had been able to find.

 

Wade had his own present in glittery paper.

 

Peter eyed the second blue box in front of him wearily. “I can actually open this one now, right?”

 

“Mmhmm. Well, not yet!” Wade pointed Ellie to the back of the tree where she found a box addressed to Peter, from May.

 

“What? When did she even?” But he was smiling at the tree designs that decorated the box.

 

“I might have helped,” Wade bumped their shoulders together. “Alright, Ellie, go for it.”

 

She gave them a wide grin before tearing off the paper from the larger of the boxes from Peter. She stared at the label on the box for a long moment before gazing up at him. “This is for me?” She asked.

 

“Yep!” Peter leaned forward. “I know how much you like to draw and color, so I thought you'd enjoy getting to play around with different things.” He'd found a set of various art mediums aimed at children. Crayons, colored pencils, some pastels and even a few types of paint were all neatly packed inside the wooden box.

 

Ellie launched herself across the few feet between them and hugged him as tightly as she could manage. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

 

Peter returned the hug happily. “Go open the other one,” he prompted.

 

She opened the smaller box quickly. “Oh, these are so pretty! You remembered!”

 

Peter had very definitely remembered Ellie's enthusiasm about Miraculous Ladybug. He'd been unable to find any decent earrings to mimic the ones from the show, so he'd made a set himself. “Of course!” He said, overjoyed by her excited expression.

 

Wade huffed at his side. “I think you won Christmas.”

 

“It's not something you _win_ ,” he whispered back.

 

Ellie set Peter's gifts carefully to the side and had started tearing through the blue paper. Peter's gaze shifted between Wade's grin and the absolute _arsenal_ of Nerf toys that Ellie was setting out in front of her.

 

“Dude.” Peter was the first one to speak.

 

Ellie's expression turned from stunned to mischievous in an instant.

 

“Emily and Shane are going to be pissed,” Peter said.

 

“Nah, they knew,” Wade assured him. “And also most of that is gonna live here.”

 

“Aww,” Ellie pouted, but only for a moment. Then she was right back to freeing the plastic weaponry from their cardboard and plastic prisons.

 

“We're totally going to have Nerf wars, right?” Peter asked before dropping to the floor to give Ellie a hand, and to help corral the worst of the mess.

 

“Totally,” Wade confirmed, joining them on the floor.

 

Once everything had been opened, Peter and Wade were both feeling ready for some Nerf-based shenanigans. It was only Ellie reminding them, “Don't you want to open your presents too?” that stalled the oncoming game.

 

Back on the couch, Peter reached for Wade's present first. “Nope!” Wade said, pushing the box from May into his hands. “You'll ruin the surprise if you go out of order.”

 

“There's an order?” Peter raised an eyebrow at him, but carefully unwrapped the gift.

 

Peter's chest clenched as he looked into the box. “Ben's camera?”

 

 _No_ , he told himself, _you are not going to cry._ But he was definitely tearing up as he gingerly lifted the camera.

 

“Are you ok, Peter?” Ellie sounded concerned.

 

“Yeah.” His voice cracked. “I'm good. I'm--” He was a lot of things. Happy and sad and touched and all of it all at once. “It was my uncle's,” he explained, setting the camera down on the coffee table. He ran the sleeve of his shirt over his eyes and turned to blink at Wade. “The hell did you get me?”

 

 _Now_ Wade returned the box to him. He opened to find what had to be several hundred dollars worth of film for the camera. Maybe more, given that taking photos with actual film was becoming something of a dying art.

 

Nestled amongst the rolls of film were two lenses. Upon closer examination they were a macro lense, and a telephoto lense. “Wade…” Peter glanced up. “Are _you_ secretly loaded?”

 

“Not secretly,” Wade corrected. “You know I can charge pretty much whatever I want for the work I do, right?” It looked like Wade couldn't decide if he should be embarrassed or proud. “And as a general rule, I don't come cheap.”

 

Peter just stared at him. He had so, _so_ , many questions. For starters, how had this never come up? Just how much _was_ the going rate for having someone killed? Why had Wade _chosen_ to live in that tiny apartment? None of those questions seemed appropriate to ask in front of Ellie though.

 

He must have stayed silent and shocked looking for too long, because Wade spoke again. “I didn't mean to hide it from you or anything. I just… assumed you _knew._ ”

 

“I did not,” Peter offered lamely. Finally, his brain quit stalling and caught up. “And, thank you. Holy crap. Should have been the first thing, I'm sorry.”

 

Wade looked entertained, though. “You're alright, Peter. Just be sure to take a few million pictures with that camera, alright?”

 

Peter nodded. There were several shots that he _knew_ he could actually manage with the telephoto lense that his phone couldn't even hope to replicate. Plus, the macro lense offered its own level of exciting possibilities. But rather than race towards the door, he made himself set Wade's gifts on the table as well.

 

“ _Papi_ , your turn!” Ellie prompted cheerfully.

 

“Yeah, Wade. Your turn.”

 

Wade stuck his tongue out at them as he opened the gift. “Ooooh!”

 

Honestly, Peter had been at something of a loss as to what to get Wade for Christmas. Right up until he'd watched Wade sharpening their kitchen knives and sighing wistfully at the whetstones. _“Nothing good lasts forever.”_ He'd lamented.

 

“You got me rocks!”

 

In lieu of swearing, Peter rolled his eyes as exaggeratedly as he could manage. Ellie padded over for a closer look.

 

“They're whetstones,” Wade said as he held one out towards her. “You use them to sharpen blades.”

 

“So they stay safe!”

 

“Yep!” Wade admired the stones for a moment. “I bet with these I could even get a knife to pass the hanging hair test.”

 

“Hanging hair test?” Peter asked.

 

“You set the strand of hair on the edge and if the knife is sharp enough, that alone will cut the hair in half.”

 

“No way.” Ellie gasped, mirroring Peter's own disbelief.

 

“I'll show both of you,” Wade told them. “The next time you come over, Ellie, I'll have a knife ready. And we'll borrow some of Peter's hair.”

 

“Some? How much do you need?”

 

“At least three.”

 

“What.”

 

“Once is a fluke, twice is a coincidence--”

 

“Yeah, yeah, ok.” Peter crossed his arms. “Fine. You can have _three_ ,” he held up his thumb and first two fingers, “strands of my hair for this experiment.”

 

“Gracious little thing, aren't you?” Wade teased.

 

“Hey, Ellie?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Hand me one of those guns, would you.”

 

Ellie happily tossed him one of the toy weapons.

 

Wade was quick as he hit the ground and rolled towards the weapons cache, but Peter was quicker, nailing him with 3 foam darts before Wade had raised his own weapon.

 

They played until late into the morning, and while Peter made it a point to avoid Wade's shots, he didn't put nearly as much effort into dodging Ellie's. He was briefly worried that Ellie would accuse him of letting her win - which he was - but as long as he still dodged some of her attempts, she doesn't seem to mind in the least.

 

They ate a late breakfast and cleaned up. Nothing had wound up broken, and Peter was pretty sure all of the darts had been accounted for when they finished.

 

When Emily and Shane came by, they agreed to let Ellie and Jeff both pick two of the toys to bring home with them, leaving Wade and Peter with a tidy pile for which to wage their own Nerf wars.

 

“So,” Peter asked, dropping into the couch. “What’s in the _other_ box?”

 

Wade's eyes lit up as he tossed him the box.

 

“It's gonna be something sexual, isn't it?” He asked as he turned the nondescript box over in his hands.

 

“What do you think?”

 

Peter wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. A sex toy, most likely. Instead the box held a small booklet made of heavy cardstock. He flipped through it and-- Ah, yep.

 

“One free dicking?” He snorted. “Do I have to pay for the rest?”

 

“Maybe,” Wade smirked at him. “Keep reading.”

 

Not _all_ of the coupons were sexual, Peter noted quickly. In fact, most of them weren't, or at least not inherently. Still, some of them were absolutely graphic with their suggestions for different sex acts. On the backs of the cards were the numbers 1-10, and what looked like a place to leave comments.

 

“A terrible movie of Peter's choice?” He read aloud. “Rude.”

 

“Like better movies, then.”

 

“This is actually kind of sweet,” Peter said, then immediately regretted it when the next card suggested rimming. “In a very _you_ sort of way.”

 

“I can be very sweet,” Wade slid closer to him. “We don't have to do anything you don't want to. Including watching terrible movies.”

 

“I'm sorry for suggesting that we watch the _Eragon_ movie, ok? It looked fun.”

 

“It was awful. And not the point. Since you keep saying you don't really know what, if anything, you like… I figured I'd write down some doable ideas and let you think them over this way.”

 

“One of these was going out to a nice restaurant.”

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

“You don't like doing stuff like that.”

 

Wade smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “It's not like I hate it. And if it's for you, I'm pretty sure I'd have a great time.”

 

He was never going to stop being able to make Peter blush. “Sap.” He muttered. He flipped back through the booklet. “Can I use these whenever?”

 

“Uh, more or less, yeah.”

 

“Like right now, maybe?”

 

Wade laughed and he could feel breath hot against his neck. “What do you have in mind?”

 

Peter pulled out the first coupon and handed it over. “I’d like my free dicking, please.”

 

Wade tucked his face against Peter's shoulder, giggling. “Absolutely.”

 

* * *

 

Peter had heard the phrase “tumble into bed together” before, but he'd always assumed it was just a nice turn of phrase. But as he and Wade rolled onto the bed, arms wrapped around each other, he found it a fitting description

 

They stopped in the center of the bed, Wade hovering over him, a warm smile on his face. “You ok?”

 

“Yeah.” Because he was. Really. “Kind of nervous?” He offered. “Excited, too, but… this is kind of a big deal?”

 

“It is,” Wade agreed. He looked calm though, and like he was taking Peter seriously. “If it's ever too much, we can stop at any time.”

 

“I know,” he leaned up to kiss Wade, but the older man pulled back.

 

“I'm serious, Peter.”

 

“Wade. I know. And I trust you to listen to me.” Even Deadpool generally listened to him, even if he tended to be more vocal about his feelings when he didn't get his way.

 

“I.” Wade hesitated, then leaned down and pressed their foreheads together. “I know you do. It just… It makes me feel better to say it,” he explained.

 

Peter managed a quick kiss that time. “Then you can say it as much as you need to.” He reached up and placed his hand over Wade's heart. His wasn't the only one that seemed to be threatening to leap from his chest. “And the same goes for you, you know? If _you_ need to stop, I mean.”

 

Their next kiss was slow and gentle. Peter could still faintly taste the syrup from the french toast they'd eaten, and also something uniquely _Wade_.

 

His hands slid up Wade's back, pulling his shirt up with them. Wade broke the kiss with a discontented noise.

 

“What's wrong?”

 

“Taking off our clothes involves a lot of movement.”

 

“So does sex.”

 

Wade laughed and knelt up, pulling his shirt over his head. “That's totally different. Also, to my point, all this clothing: your idea.”

 

Peter scoffed and struggled with his own shirt from his position under Wade. “Yeah. Because Ellie was here.” Wade eventually took pity on him and helped him with his shirt. “You're gonna have to move if you want me to take my pants off.”

 

“I bet we could figure something out,” Wade grinned, rolling his hips down.

 

His breath caught and Peter had the sudden mental image of Wade cutting his pants off of him. He was pretty sure that shouldn't be nearly as appealing as it was. “Move before I move you,” Peter said, rather than give voice to his brief fantasy.

 

Holy shit he actually had a fantasy. He'd have to remember to tell Wade later, for sure.

 

Wade purred at his suggestion. “Maybe I want you to move me.”

 

Peter huffed but gave Wade what he wanted, rolling them easily. He didn't stay though, and instead rolled off the bed to more easily finish undressing. Wade's pout vanished as he took in the sight of Peter's stiffening dick.

 

“You wanna _not_ look at me like a piece of meat?”

 

“I'm not!” Wade said indignantly.

 

“Little bit,” Peter corrected. “Take your pants off, I don't really want a zipper that close to my ass.

 

He watched with amusement as Wade squirmed free of his jeans and dropped them to the floor. “There. Get back over here.”

 

Peter crawled back across the bed, and tucked himself up again Wade's side. A bubble of anxiety squirmed in the back of his mind, but he did his best to ignore it. Of course he was anxious. Who wouldn't be?

 

They were kissing again, and Peter thought that he wouldn't even be too upset if that was all they did. But Wade was rolling him onto his back, and deepening the kiss.

 

When they broke apart, he could tell that Wade was trying not to look overly enthusiastic. He was almost managing it, even. “So, we have some options,” Wade said, one hand trailing down and resting on Peter's thigh.

 

He blinked. “Yeah?” He really hoped Wade wasn't going to ask him for any of his non-existent preferences.

 

“Well, to start, would you be more comfortable on your back or your front.”

 

“I want to see you,” he blurted out. Oh, apparently he did have preferences.

 

“Ok.” Wade was now failing at putting on a calm demeanor. “As for prep, our dildos would be the most gentle way to stretch you open.”

 

“I sense a but.”

 

“ _But_ , if you'd prefer, I could just use my fingers.” He paused. “And/or my tongue.”

 

“Your tongue? Oh. Uh.” He hadn't expected _that_ suggestion. Of course, it had been on one of the coupons, but…

 

He wasn't sure what expression he'd been making, but it caused Wade to backpedal. “We definitely don't have to do that if you don't like the idea.”

 

“I don't… um… You'd want to do that?”

 

“Only if you want me too.”

 

“Not… Not this time? Um. Fuck.” Now he was good and properly flustered. “Fingers? The other day… that felt _really_ good.”

 

“You got it, Baby Boy,” Wade rumbled, stretching towards the bedside table and returning with their lube.

 

Peter swallowed as Wade settled back down between his legs. He tried to keep from psyching himself out.

 

“Try to relax, Pete,” Was said softly, pressing a kiss to his knee as he adjusted Peter's position, dragging a pillow from the head of the bed to rest under his hips.

 

“Trying,” Peter said. He closed his eyes as a slick finger made gentle circles against his hole.

 

“Ah.” He gasped when Wade's finger first breached him. It felt different. Not bad, but not like it had before. It was more intense. It took longer than he'd have liked to realize that _last time_ he'd had fucked himself open with a dildo less than an hour earlier.

 

“Ok?” Wade asked.

 

He made himself open his eyes. “Yeah. I'm good.”

 

Wade's free hand splayed over his stomach, warm and comforting. He gave Peter another moment before pressing his finger in deeper. He only stilled again once his finger was fully inside.

 

Peter could feel every miniscule twitch of Wade's finger as his body clenched around the intrusion.

 

“Ready for me to move?”

 

He hummed his assent and Wade started thrusting gently, occasionally shifting his angle until he brushed against a bundle of nerves that made Peter yelp in surprise.

 

Not long after that he was rolling his hips, trying to meet Wade's movements. He blushed as he realized he was making small needy sounds, but Wade just looked delighted at his response.

 

His eyes slid closed as he relaxed and just enjoyed what was happening, trying to appreciate every deceptively tender touch he was given.

 

Peter couldn't help the discontented noise that escaped him as Wade slowed down.

 

“Do you think you're ready for another finger?”

 

 _Oh_. Was he? He had been able to relax with one finger moving in and out of him, so maybe. “I. Maybe? I'm kind of relying on your expertise here.”

 

“I don't know that I'd call it _expertise_.” Wade leaned down, peppering kisses over his stomach and chest. “We'll give it a try and you let me know if it's too fast, ok?”

 

He nodded. He could do that.

 

“And stop holding your breath.”

 

Oops. He took several exaggerated breaths, before actually focusing. He hasn't even realized he'd been holding his breath.

 

Wade's finger slipped out and he immediately disliked the loss. He glanced down at the sound of the lube opening again.

 

“I mean it, Spidey. If this doesn't feel good - especially if it hurts--”

 

“You're not going to hurt me,” Peter assured him.

 

His boyfriend's expression was nearly pained for a moment, but before Peter could think of anything to say to try to comfort him two fingers were pressing into him.

 

He had to remind himself to breathe again. Wade hadn't been wrong when he'd told him that this would feel different than being eased open with their toys. It didn't hurt, but the stretch burned just a little. But the discomfort surprised him enough that an unbidden whimper escaped, and Wade froze.

 

“I'm ok,” he said quickly. “Just a little startled.”

 

“What's wrong?”

 

Peter pouted. He wanted Wade to _move_. “Nothing's wrong. Just different than what I was expecting I guess.” He did his best to rock against Wade's fingers, trying to coax him into moving again.

 

Wade hesitated for another moment, searching Peter's face, before deciding that he was telling the truth.

 

He hummed his appreciation as Wade finished pressing into him. “Thank you.”

 

“Not exactly a tribulation for me, Baby Boy,” Wade chuckled. He started moving again, sooner than he had before, and Peter was grateful. Wade moving inside him felt wonderful.

 

Soon he was moving with Wade again, now _less_ embarrassed by the desperate noises he was making. After all, Wade seemed to be enjoying all of the sounds he was making, so it couldn't be that strange.

 

“Fuck you're gorgeous like this,” Wade murmured, the hand on Peter's stomach tensing, holding more tightly against him.

 

So much for not feeling embarrassed. He fixed Wade with a dopey smile. He was having fun, damn it. “Wade. I want…” Wade chose that moment to press hard against his prostate, massaging it and driving coherent thought to the side. “Fuck.”

 

Wade was chuckling at him. Asshole. “What do you want, Petey?”

 

 _Fuck_ . What did he want? _More_ , he knew. Could be actually handle Wade's cock at this point? Or would trying just hurt? The uncertainty sent a jolt of anxiety through him.

 

But if it _was_ too much, that was ok. They could take a step back and try again. “You.”

 

“You sure?” Peter's anxiety roiled. No, he wasn't sure. He was just kind of winging things and hoping for the best. “Because this is undeniably sex. And that changes things. And I don't want--”

 

 _Oh thank God._ Peter _was_ sure about that part. “I'm sure,” he said with every ounce of confidence he could muster. “I definitely want this. You.”

 

He could feel the relief radiating off of Wade in waves. “I love you so much.” Wade's hand left his stomach and trailed along his side, pausing over where he'd had to stitch Peter up. It had healed just fine less than 48 hours later, and there wasn't even a scar to show that anything had ever happened. That fact didn't seem to help Wade feel any better about it, though.

 

“I'm ok. Still all in one piece. And I love you, too.”

 

Peter let out a squeak when Wade's fingers slipped out of him and he covered Peter's body with his own, kissing him and pressing him down into the mattress. His hips jerked up as the movement and gave his dick some much needed friction.

 

“Are you going to come if I touch you right now?”

 

“Possibly,” Peter admitted.

 

He could feel Wade's laughter through his whole body. Peter huffed when Wade moved back down, now being careful to avoid his erection.

 

He pushed himself up on his elbows enough to watch Wade slick up his own straining hardon. “Ok?” He asked. Peter must have looked as nervous as he felt.

 

“Yep. Very ok.” He let himself drop back down as Wade lined up.

 

“Take a deep breath, Pete.”

 

His first attempt was so shallow and shaky that it just made him laugh, which, honestly, did a lot to help calm his nerves. He took a slow deep breath and held for a few seconds.

 

Once he started to exhale, he could feel the blunt head of Wade's cock pressing against him. It was definitely bigger than anything else he'd had inside him and for a brief panicked moment he wondered if it was even possible.

 

But then the head of his cock pushed through the ring of muscle and Peter all but melted with relief. There was pressure and the burn of being held open, but it didn't hurt.

 

He hadn't even realized he'd closed his eyes until he opened them to find Wade holding completely still. “You have to breathe too, Babe.”

 

It was Wade's turn for a shaky laugh.

 

Peter let his head fall back as Wade started moving again, slowly rocking into him. He didn't even try to keep up with how much time passed - it didn't matter - until Wade's careful thrusts ended with him fully sheathed inside Peter.

 

He was gasping. He could feel every inch of Wade inside him, every twitch of his cock as Wade waited for Peter to adjust. He felt stuffed full. And also incredibly loved and precious. Wade loved him. Wanted him.

 

He felt tears slip from the corners of his eyes. _Damn it._ This was incredible! Why was he fucking crying?

 

“Peter?” Wade sounded alarmed.

 

Instinctively Peter hooked a leg over him. “‘m ok,” he managed. When he looked up at Wade he had to blink a few times to clear his vision.

 

“Good tears?” Wade asked, reaching up and brushing them away.

 

“I guess so?” How the hell was he supposed to explain what he was feeling. “It's… a lot.”

 

“Yeah,” Wade was smiling. “Told you so.”

 

“Shut up,” Peter returned the smile and clenched down around Wade's cock, making the older man groan. “Yeah?” He was grinning now. “We just gonna sit like this the whole time or do you plan on moving any time soon?”

 

Wade huffed, pulling out a few inches before pushing back in, gauging Peter's reaction.

 

Peter allowed - and enjoyed - the unnecessarily gentle treatment for a minute or so before whining. “I'm not fragile,” he reminded him.

 

“Oh, no?” Wade asked. “But you are oh so tiny,” he teased.

 

“I'm also oh so strong and flexible,” Peter shot back, wrapping his legs around Wade's waist.

 

He moaned in appreciation as Wade slid almost all the way out of him. Then he slammed back in so hard that Peter cried out. “That what you want?”

 

“Yes, damn it.”

 

He grinned at Wade's brief startled expression, but he recovered quickly. He wondered what Wade had been expecting, if not that.

 

But Wade gave him what he asked for, pounding into him until they were both moaning and panting, and Peter felt like he was teetering right on the edge of too much.

 

Then Wade's hand wrapped around his dick and Peter came so hard he whited out.

 

He became aware of himself again as Wade tried to pull out, only for Peter to tighten his grip around his waist. “No.”

 

“What?”

 

Peter felt warm and floaty and content. It was awesome. He didn't want Wade to move. “I like feeling you inside me.”

 

Wade huffed, but settled back down. “You know this is going to get uncomfortable sooner rather than later, right?”

 

“Don't care.”

 

“Or I'll just get hard again.”

 

“I'm ok with that, too.”

 

It wasn't long before Peter was inclined to admit that Wade had been right. Wade's cock inside him was still delightful, but the rest of their positioning wasn't really ideal. “You were right,” he muttered.

 

“I usually am with these things.”

 

Peter still let out a discontented sigh as Wade slipped free, and only cheered back up when Wade crawled up the bed and pulled Peter against his chest. Cuddling was good, too.

 

“Should'a put down towels or something.” Peter mumbled.

 

“Yeah, probably.”

 

“Your turn to do post-sex laundry.”

 

“Making me do all the work.” But he could hear the smile in Wade's voice.

 

Peter thought he might be able to doze off like this, but then Wade was speaking again. “Was it what you thought it would be?”

 

“I don't what I thought it would be,” Peter said. “But it was… I liked it a lot. A whole lot. So.” He paused. “What about you?”

 

“Better than I thought,” Wade pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “And I'd thought about it a lot.”

 

He didn't know what to say to that, so he shifted until he able to capture Wade's nipple between his lips.

 

“If you keep that up you might regret it, kiddo.”

 

At the nickname Peter bit down hard enough that Wade yelped and tried to jerk away.

 

“Told you not to call me that.”

 

Wade laughed, rendering his attempt at an apology moot.

 

* * *

 

That evening Peter sat down in the living room, watching Wade drag their bedding to the washing machine as he looked over the coupon book in more detail. Quite a few seemed to involve bathing him. He wasn't sure what to make of that, yet.

 

“Hey, Babe? Are all of these things _you_ want to do?”

 

Wade glanced up from where he was measuring detergent. “It's all stuff I'd be happy doing, yeah.”

 

Peter hummed considering, “I just ask because uh,” he looked up at Wade, “one of these is for spanking, which you seemed to be… strongly against, the other day.”

 

He watched Wade dump in the detergent and slowly shut the lid of the washer before walking over to the couch. “Sure. I mean, I don't like the idea of hitting you,” Wade explained. Peter frowned at his flippant tone. “But if I ever pissed you off and you wanted to smack me--”

 

“Wade.” Peter cut across him. “What the fuck?”

 

“What?” Wade crossed his arms, his expression challenging.

 

Peter was trying very hard to figure out if he'd been serious or not. “You want me to _hit you_ when I'm pissed off?”

 

Wade's jaw set, and he didn't answer. He didn't want to talk about it. Maybe he'd admitted more than he'd meant to. But if so, what the hell was Peter supposed to do with that?

 

He could drop it, he knew. He could throw away the coupon, and neither of them needed to ever bring it up again. But Wade had promised that they could talk about it later, so instead he stood up and pointed to the couch. “Sit.”

 

Wade was still glaring at him, but he took the needed step, turned, and sat. Peter hadn't really expected him to follow his directions at all.

 

“Can we talk about this?” He asked, softening his tone. “Like, actually talk about it?” He didn't want to _make_ Wade talk, if that were even possible.

 

He got a sharp nod as a reply. Wade being so quiet was unsettling.

 

“In _this_ context, do you think of spanking and hitting as the same thing?”

 

Wade finally blinked. But he still didn't say anything, and instead just shrugged.

 

“Don't give me that. You have an answer.” When Wade still didn't answer, he spoke firmly again. “Yes or no, Wade.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And you don't want to hit me.”

 

“No.”

 

“But you'd let me hit you?”

 

Wade hesitated. “Yes.”

 

Peter let out a long breath. He regretted asking. “Do you--. Do you _want_ me to hit you?”

 

Blue eyes finally darted away from his, staring out the window instead, but not seeing anything. “Sometimes,” he admitted quietly.

 

He already knew the answer to his next question, but he had to be sure. “In a fun kinky way, or--”

 

“No.”

 

If Peter were being generous, he'd still only guess that he knew the smallest fraction of what all went on in Wade's head. He'd made all of one attempt to _really_ explain to Peter how he saw the world, and it had largely been unintentional. Wade had the world split into a dichotomy: people and actions were all either Good, or they were Bad. Peter knew that there was room for some gray area, but when he'd tried to point that out, using Wade's own actions as examples, that had just distressed Wade too much to continue the conversation.

 

It had taken Peter a while to realize that Wade thought of people as either inherently Good or Bad, whereas actions were allowed some level of nuance, some context. And Wade, unfortunately, had decided that he was Bad.

 

He sat down on the coffee table, letting their knees touch. “So,” he started slowly, hoping he wasn't completely off base. “The “sometimes” when you want me to hit you? Is that usually after you've done something Bad?”

 

Wade shifted. He still wasn't looking at Peter, but his eyes seemed to actually be focusing again. “Yes.”

 

“Right. Ok, then. Wade, look at me.” Wade's attention snapped back to Peter. “Thank you.” He ripped the spanking coupon from the booklet and held Wade's gaze as he shredded it between them. “I'm not going to do that.”

 

He couldn't read Wade's expression. “If you ever feel guilty, or shitty, or _whatever_ , we can talk about it. We can go to the gym, or go for a run, or watch mindless television, or cook, or whatever else you might want to do. To cope, or repent, or just get your mind off of it. But I'm not going to hurt you. You’re too-- I love you too much to even think about doing that.”

 

Peter waited for Wade to reply. To do or say anything. “You still with me?” He asked when Wade still hadn't reacted after several long moments.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are you ok?”

 

He nodded.

 

“Want me to leave you alone for a bit?”

 

“No.”

 

“Can I sit down on the couch with you?”

 

“Yes, please.”

 

As soon as Peter sat down, Wade curled up against him, one hand digging into his shirt.

 

“I'm sorry, Wade,” he said softly, “I shouldn't have brought it up.”

 

Wade shook his head against him. “I'm the one who made the stupid coupon.”

 

“D'you wanna look through them later and make sure there isn't anything else you'd rather not think about?”

 

“No. I. I thought…” Wade floundered for a moment, but Peter didn't rush him. “I know most people can make a distinction. Between kinky shit and like, hurting people.”

 

Peter ran his hand up and down Wade's back. “Right.”

 

“And just because I'm too fucked up to do it, that doesn't mean you are, right? And when it came up the other day you sounded kind of interested and--. And I figured, if that was something you liked, then maybe… I don't know. It was stupid.”

 

“It wasn't stupid,” Peter corrected. Wade's thought process was, however, fairly alarming. But he wasn't sure trying to talk about _that_ would actually help right then. “Maybe a bit misguided. But not stupid.”

 

Wade let out a non-committal sound. “Peter. Thank you. For everything.”

 

He pulled Wade into a one armed hug. “You're welcome for everything.”

 

“You don't regret what we did, do you?”

 

“What? No! Why would I?”

 

“Because I'm…”

 

“Incredible? Caring? In love with me?”

 

Wade pulled away enough to fix Peter with a small smile.

 

“Do you?” Peter asked. “Because. Um. It occurs to me that I was probably really… bad. At sex. I made you do all the work and then just cried at you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ, who fucking _cries_ during sex?”

 

That was when he realized Wade was laughing at him. Peter glared, but Wade seemed to be trying to keep it to a minimum.

 

“Oh, Baby Boy,” Wade cooed, changing their position and dragging Peter against his chest. “Everyone's bad at sex at first.”

 

Peter snorted. “Thanks for sparing my feelings.”

 

“And crying's not that weird. You were just filled to bursting with emotions and your tiny body couldn't handle it.”

 

“Shut the hell up,” Peter groused. “I'm not actually that small, you know.”

 

“You're tiny and adorable,” Wade continued. “And we should have a lot more sex so that you can practice and be better at it.”

 

“You're an asshole when you're in a good mood,” Peter grinned for a moment. “But seriously. Was I really that bad, or--”

 

“No, dork,” Wade ruffled his hair. “You were fine. I mean, we should still practice a bunch, but just because it's fun.”

 

“It was fun,” he agreed. “Maybe we should start after dinner?”

 

Wade's eyes lit up. “I-- Are you-- Fuck. Yes, please. Let's do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's next: Tony and Loki celebrating Christmas! Then some more plot!  
> Also I just saw Into the Spiderverse and I maybe have an idea for something related to that that I'll probably write at some point?  
> I just really love Miles, ok?

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [@Wolfloner-Official](https://wolfloner-official.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@Wolfloner1990](https://twitter.com/Wolfloner1990)  
> Discord: Wolfloner#9177  
> HMU if you wanna chat or w/e. :)


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